THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Mrs.  Helen  A.  Dillon 


Hrr 


JOHAN  BOJER 

TKe  leading  Norwegian  novelist,  whose 
powerful  story.  "TKe  Face  of  the 
World."  was  recently  filmed  with  Bar- 
bara Bedford  in  the  principal  femmins 
role. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 


THE  POWER  OF 
A  LIE 

BY 

JOHAN    BOJER 

Translated  from  the  Norwegian  by 

JESSIE   MUIR 

With  an  Introduction  by 

HALL   CAINE 


NEW  YORE 

MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 

2  East  29th  Street 


Copyright  1909  by  Mitchell  Kennerley 
Copyright  1908  by  William  Heinemann 


College 
Library 

TT' 
S3  DO 

INTRODUCTION 

\    /"*^  /*" "  /*** 

THIS  is  a  great  book.  I  can  have  no  hesitation 
whatever  in  saying  that.  Rarely  in  reading  a 
modern  novel  have  I  felt  so  strong  a  sense  of 
reality  and  so  deep  an  impression  of  motive.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  praise  too  highly  the  power 
and  the  reticence  of  this  story. 

When  I  compare  it  with  other  Norwegian  nov- 
els, even  the  best  and  by  the  best-known  writers, 
I  feel  that  it  transcends  them  in  its  high  serious- 
ness, and  in  the  almost  relentless  strength  with 
which  its  dominant  idea  is  carried  through.  Its 
atmosphere  is  often  wonderful,  sometimes  start- 
ling, and  its  structure  is  without  any  fault  that 
has  betrayed  itself  to  me. 

Of  isolated  scenes  of  beauty  and  pathos  it  has 
not  a  few,  and  its  closeness  to  nature  in  little 
things  fills  its  pages  with  surprises.  All  its 
characters  bear  the  stamp  of  truth,  and  some  of 
them  are  deeply  impressive,  especially,  perhaps, 
that  of  Fru  Wangen,  a  tragic  figure  of  a  woman, 
never  to  be  forgotten  as  long  as  memory  lasts^.^ 

Its  theme  is  a  noble  one.     That  an  evil  act  is      j 
irrevocable,  that  no  retractation  and  no  penitence     / 
can  wipe  it  out;    that  its  consequences,  and  the 
consequences  of  its  consequences,  must  go  on  and   > 
on  for  ever — this  may  not  be  a  new  thing  to  say, 
but  it  is  a  fine  thing  to  have  finely  said. 


INTRODUCTION 


I  might  easily  dwell  on  the  passages,  and  they 
are  many,  which  have  moved  me  to  the  highest 
admiration — the  passages  with  the  old  pensioners, 
the  passages  (especially  the  last  of  them,  at  night 
and  in  bed)  between  the  accused  man  and  his 
great-hearted  wife.  But  this  would  be  a  long  task, 
and  I  am  compelled  to  address  myself  to  a  part  of 
my  duty  which  may  appear  to  be  less  gracious. 

When  I  ask  myself  what  is  the  effect  of  this 
book,  its  net  result,  its  ultimate  teaching,  I  am 
confronted  by  a  number  of  questions  which  I  find 
it  hard  to  answer  with  enthusiasm. 

This  is  the  story  of  a  man  who  signs  his  name 
as  bond  for  a  friend,  and  then,  when  the  friend 
becomes  bankrupt,  denies  that  he  has  done  so  and 
accuses  the  friend  of  forgery.  In  the  end  the 
innocent  man  is  committed  to  prison  and  the 
guilty  one  is  banqueted  by  his  fellow  townsmen. 

So  far  the  subject  of  the  book  cannot  antag- 
onise anybody.     That  the  right  may  be  worsted  ^v 
in  the  battle  of  life  and  the  wrong  may  triumph    I 
is  a  fact  of  tremendous  significance,  capable  of  / 
treatment  as  great,  as  helpful,  and  as  stimulating 
as  that  of  the  Book  of  Job.     It  is  against  the 
moral  drawn  by  the  author  from  this  fact  of  life 
that  some  of  us  may  find  reason  to  rebel. 

If  I  read  this  wonderful  book  aright,  it  says 

.as  its  final  word  that  a  life  of  deception  does  not 

(    always  wither  up  and  harden  the  human  heart, 

\   but  sometimes  expands  and  softens  it ;  that  a  man 


INTRODUCTION 


may  pass  from  lie  to  lie  until  he  is  convinced 
that  he  is  as  white  as  an  angel,  and,  having  be- 
trayed himself  into  a  belief  in  his  innocence,  that 
he  may  become  generous,  unselfish,  and  noble. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  book  says,  if  I  do  not 
misunderstand  it,  that  the  sense  of  innocence  in 
an  innocent  man  may  be  corrupting  and  debas- 
ing; that  to  prove  himself  guiltless  a  man  may 
make  himself  guilty,  and  that  nearly  every 

Cand  true  impulse  of  the  heart  may  be  whittled 
away  by  the  suspicion  and  abuse  of  the  world.' 
I  confess,  though  I  am  here  to  introduce  this 
book  to  English  readers,  and  do  so  with  gladness 
and  pride,  that  this  is  teaching  of  which  I  utterly 
disapprove.  It  conflicts  with  all  my  experience 
of  life  to  think  that  a  man  may  commit  forgery, 
as  Wangen  does,  to  prove  himself  innocent  of 
forgery,  and  that  a  man  may  become  unselfish,  as 
Norby  becomes  unselfish,  by  practising  the  most 
selfish  duplicity.  If  I  had  to  believe  this  I  should 
\  also  have  to  believe  that  there  is  no  knowledge 
of  right  and  wrong  in  the  heart  of  man,  no  sense 
of  sin,  that  conscience  is  only  a  juggling  fiend, 
and  that  the  presiding  power  in  the  world  is  not 
only  not  God,  but  the  devil. 

I  hold  it  to  be  entirely  within  the  right  of  the 
artist  to  show  by  what  machinations  of  the  demon 
of  circumstance  the  bad  man  may  be  raised  up  to 
honour  and  the  good  man  brought  down  to  shame, 
but  I  also  hold  it  to  be  the  first  and  highest  duty 


10  INTRODUCTION 

of  the  artist  to  show  that  victory  may  be  worse  >^ 
than  defeat,  success  more  to  be  feared  than  fail- 
ure, and  that  it  is  better  to  lie  with  the  just  man 

\    on  his  dunghill  than  to  sit  with  the  evil  one  on 

I   his  throne. 

That  is,  in  my  view,  what  great  art  is  for — to     ^, 

/lift  us  above  and  beyond  the  transient  fact,  the     / 
Q     mere  semblance   and  form  of  things,  and  show    / 
\ the  essence  of  truth  which  life  so  often  hides./ 
^Without  it  I  find  no  function  for  art  except  that 
of  the  photographer,  however  faithful,  the  repro- 
ducer and  transcriber  of  just  what  the  eye  can  see. 
All  the  same,  I  recognise  the  plausibility  of 
quite  other  views,  and  I  know  that  the  opinions 
both  on  art  and  life  of  the  author  of  this  book, 
so  far  as  they  have  revealed  themselves  to  me, 
are  such  as  receive  the  warm  support  of  some 
of  the  wisest  and  best  minds  of  our  time. 

It  does  not  surprise  me  to  hear  that  the  Acad- 
emy of  France  has  lately  crowned  "The  Power 
of  a  Lie,"  for  both  its  morality  and  its  excelling 
power  are  of  the  kind  which  at  the  present  moment 
appeal  most  strongly  to  the  French  mind.  That 
they  will  also  appeal  to  a  certain  side  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  mind  I  confidently  believe;  and  I  am  no 
less  sure  that  however  a  reader  may  revolt  against 
certain  aspects  of  the  teaching  of  this  fine  book, 
he  will  find  that  it  stirs  and  touches  him  and  makes 
him  think.  H.  C. 

ISLE  or  MAN,  July,  1908. 


The  Power  of  a  Lie 


PART  I 
CHAPTER  I 

THE  night  was  falling  as  Knut  Norby  drove 
homewards  in  his  sledge  from  a  meeting  of  the 
school  committee.  The  ice  on  Lake  Mjosen  had 
not  been  safe  for  some  little  time,  and  he  had 
promised  his  wife  to  go  round  by  the  high-road. 
But  various  annoyances  in  the  course  of  the  day 
had  irritated  the  old  man,  and  down  by  the 
craggy  promontory  he  suddenly  tightened  the 
reins  and  turned  off  on  to  the  ice.  "It  has  borne 
others  already  to-day,"  he  thought,  "and  there 
is  no  reason  why  it  shouldn't  bear  me."  The 
horse  pricked  up  its  ears,  and  stepped  timidly  over 
the  rough  ice;  but  Knut  roused  it  with  a  smart 
touch  of  the  whip,  and  the  sledge  bounded  from 
hummock  to  hummock  until  it  reached  the  smooth, 
shining  surface  of  the  lake. 

When  one  annoyance   follows   close  upon  an- 


13  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

'  other,  the  feeling  induced  is  like  that  of  a  blow 
\  falling  upon  a  place  where  there  is  a  wound 
^already.  First  of  all  to-day,  the  old  man  had 
been  outvoted  in  a  school  committee  matter;  it 
was  against  that  wretched  parish  schoolmaster. 
When,  in  the  midst  of  this  annoyance,  his  son-in- 
law  came  and  asked  for  a  fresh  advance  upon 
his  inheritance,  it  seemed  to  the  old  man  like 
downright  extortion ;  but  when,  an  hour  later,  he 
heard  that  Wangen,  the  merchant,  had  failed,  the 
couple  of  thousand  krones  for  which  he  himself 
was  liable  assumed  the  proportions  of  an  over- 
whelming calamity.  "I  shall  soon  be  keeping  half 
the  parish,"  he  thought.  "People  really  seem 
to  be  doing  their  very  best  to  rob  me  of  my  last 
shilling." 

The  horse  was  a  long,  black  stallion,  with  a 
red-brown  wavy  mane  and  easy  motion.  The 
old  man  himself  was  almost  hidden  in  a  great 
bearskin  coat  with  the  collar  turned  up.  The 
darkness  was  beginning  to  fall  out  on  the  ice,  and 
one  by  one  lights  appeared  in  the  farms  upon  the 
snow-covered  country  surrounding  the  bay. 

"And  how  when  my  wife  gets  to  know  of  this?" 
he  thought,  as  the  sledge-bells  jingled  and  the  ice 
flew  from  the  horse's  hoofs.  He  had  put  his  name 
to  Wangen's  paper  without  her  knowledge.  It 
must  have  been  about  three  or  four  years  ago, 
and  the  guarantee  was  to  help  Wangen  to  obtain 
larger  credit  with  a  merchant  in  the  capital.  And 


I 

t 

*    •: 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  13 

even  earlier  than  that,  he  had  promised  his  wife 
not  to  stand  surety  for  any  one  at  all,  for  they 
had  lost  quite  enough.  And  now?  "How  in  the 
world  did  he  manage  to  fool  me  that  time?"v 
thought  Knut.  But  even  the  wisest  men  have  / 
their  weak  moments  when  they  are  good  and  kind./ 
They  were  both  in  town,  and  Wangen  had  stood 
a  good  dinner  at  the  Carl  Johan  Hotel.  And 
afterwards — this  happened.  That  had  been  an 
expensive  dinner!  And  now  with  the  feeling  of 
dread  at  the  prospect  of  having  to  stand  shame- 
faced before  his  wife,  and  confess  that  he  had 
broken  his  word,  Norby  felt  a  rising  dislike  to 
Wangen,  who  was  of  course  to  blame  for  it  all. 
"He  knew  what  he  was  about,  that  fellow,  with 
his  dinner!"  And  involuntarily  the  old  man 
began  to  recall  a  number  of  bad  things  about 
Wangen;  there  was  a  kind  of  self-defence  in 
feeling  enraged  with  him. 

The  shadows  of  the  fir-trees  grew  black,  and 
the  stars  came  out;  while  a  fiery  streak  in  the 
west  glowed  through  the  darkness  and  threw  a 
glare  upon  the  ice.  It  shone  upon  the  plating 
of  the  harness  and  sledge,  and  cast  long  shadows 
of  man  and  horse,  that  steadily  kept  pace  with 
their  owners.  Scarcely  a  living  being  was  to  be 
seen  on  the  desolate  expanse.  A  solitary  fisher- 
man was  visible  at  his  hole  far  out,  where  the 
red  reflection  met  the  pointed  shadows  of  the 
mountains;  and  out  at  the  promontory  might 


14  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

be  seen  a  little  dot  of  a  man  moving  out 
from  the  land,  dragging  a  sledge  after  him. 

"And  Herlufsen  of  Rud!  Won't  he  be  de- 
lighted!" 

Norby,  being  himself  of  a  combative  disposition 
and  hard  in  his  dealings  with  others,  imagined 
that  a  number  of  persons  were  always  on  the 
watch  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him.  If  he  did  a 
good  stroke  of  business  in  timber,  his  first  feeling 
was  one  of  satisfaction  as  he  thought:  "How 
they  will  envy  me!"  And  in  unfortunate  trans- 
actions he  did  not  care  a  rap  about  the  money 
he  lost ;  he  was  only  troubled  at  the  thought  that 
it  was  now  the  turn  of  other  people  to  exult. 

He  was  now  out  in  the  middle  of  the  ice,  and 
had  passed  from  the  fiery  reflection  into  the  dark 
shadows.  The  horse  heard  sledge-bells  near  the 
shore,  and  without  slackening  its  pace  raised  its 
head  and  neighed.  "Suppose  the  ice  were  to  give 
way!"  thought  the  old  man  with  a  cold  shiver 
of  apprehension.  His  father,  a  wealthy  old 
peasant,  was  once  driving  a  heavy  load  of  polished 
granite  blocks  across  the  lake.  When  the  ice 
began  to  give  loud  reports  and  to  bend  under  the 
weight,  the  old  man,  unwilling  to  throw  off  any 
of  the  valuable  blocks  in  order  to  lighten  the  load, 
knelt  down  and  prayed:  "If  only  Thou  wilt  let 
me  get  safely  to  land,  I'll  send  ten  bushels  of  my 
best  barley  to  the  pastor."  He  got  to  land;  but 
when  he  stood  on  the  shore,  he  looked  back  across 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  15 

the  ice  with  a  chuckle,  saying :  "I  had  Him  there !" 
And  the  pastor  got  no  barley. 

The  sledge-bells  rang  out  their  clear,  bright, 
silvery  tones,  but  all  the  time  the  old  man  sat 
thinking  the  ice  was  giving  way. 

"If  I  go  through,  it  will  probably  be  because  I 
didn't  want  to  go  to  the  sacrament  next  Sunday," 
he  thought;  for  when  he  left  home  he  had  half 
promised  his  wife  to  call  at  the  clerk's  and  give 
in  their  names  for  the  sacrament.  But  at  the 
last  moment  the  old  pagan  had  come  to  life  within 
him,  and  he  had  driven  past  the  clerk's  house. 

"It's  against  my  conscience,"  he  had  said  to 
himself.  "I  don't  believe  in  the  sacrament,  scarce- 
ly in  the  redemption  even." 

There  were  two  different  men  in  Knut  Norby. 
One  of  these  had  acquired  ideals  at  school  at  the 
parsonage,  in  his  travels,  and  from  all  kinds  of 
books.  But  when,  on  the  death  of  his  father, 
Knut  had  had  to  take  over  the  farm,  he  had  little 
by  little  developed  some  traits  of  his  father's 
character.  The  old  man  still  seemed  present 
among  the  farm-hands,  in  the  bank-books,  in  the 
great  forest,  in  unsettled  bargains,  and  above 
all  in  the  Norby  family's  standing  in  the  country- 
side. It  seemed  natural  to  Knut  to  continue  to  be 
a  part  of  his  father,  and  often,  when  he  was  about 
to  settle  some  new  timber  transaction,  he  would 
suddenly  feel  as  if  he  actually  were  that  father, 
and  would  involuntarily  see  with  his  father's  eyes, 


16  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

use  his  father's  artifices,  and  have  his  father's 
conscience.  The  other  Knut  Norby  busied  himself 
with  books  and  with  political  and  religious  ques- 
tions, whenever  the  first  had  nothing  to  do. 

"I  ought  to  have  given  in  our  names  for  that 
sacrament  all  the  same,"  he  said  to  himself,  when 
he  saw  that  he  was  still  a  long  way  from  the 
shore.  "It's  all  very  well  with  ideas  and  that 
sort  of  thing;  but  it's  not  at  all  certain  they'll 
be  enough  when  we  come  before  the  judgment- 
seat."  However,  there  would  still  be  time  to  send 
word  to  the  clerk,  if  only  he  got  safely  to 
land. 

At  last  he  reached  the  firm,  frosty  high-road, 
and  breathed  freely  once  more.  He  let  the  horse 
walk,  as  it  was  in  a  perspiration;  but  it  wanted 
to  get  home  to  its  stable,  and  soon  broke  into  a 
trot  again. 

In  the  wood  the  sledge-bells  sounded  loud  and 
clear.  The  fir-trees  stretched  their  snow-laden 
branches  overhead,  leaving  here  and  there  a 
glimpse  of  the  starry  sky  above. 

Norby  was  now  passing  farms  with  lights  in  the 
windows.  The  largest  of  them,  standing  up  on 
the  hill,  was  Rud,  which  Norby 's  enemies  main- 
tained was  larger  than  Norby's  place.  It  was 
here  that  his  great  rival  lived,  the  wealthy  Mads 
Herlufsen  of  Rud. 

Norby  could  see  this  farm  from  his  own  sitting- 
room  window;  and  as  time  went  on  it  became 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  17 

impossible  for  him  to  think  of  Herlufsen  without 
seeing  in  his  mind's  eye  his  farm-buildings,  the 
woods  around,  the  hill  behind — the  whole  thing 
like  a  troll  with  its  head  towards  the  sky;  and  it 
was  all  Mads  Herlufsen  sitting  there  and  keep- 
ing watch  upon  Norby. 

"And  now  when  he  hears  this,  how  he  will 
exult!" 

His  worries,  which  had  vanished  in  the  possi- 
bility of  danger  out  on  the  ice,  now  returned,  and 
he  recollected  having  seen  Wangen  intoxicated  on 
several  occasions  in  town.  "And  that's  the  man 
I've  helped!" 

At  last  he  turned  up  an  avenue,  at  the  end  of 
which  could  be  seen  the  dark  mass  of  the  Norby 
buildings  against  the  fir-clad  slope.  In  the  large 
dwelling-house  there  were  lights  in  only  two  or 
three  of  the  windows.  A  large  black  dog  came 
bounding  towards  Knut  with  delighted  barks, 
leaping  up  in  front  of  the  horse,  which  snapped 
at  it. 

The  stable-man  came  with  a  lantern,  and  held 
the  horse  while  Norby,  stiff  with  sitting  still  so 
long,  got  slowly  out  of  the  sledge. 

Beams  of  light  flickered  across  the  snow  from 
lanterns  passing  in  and  out  of  the  doors  of  the 
cow-sheds  and  stables  that  surrounded  the  large 
farm-yard  on  three  sides.  To  the  left  of  the 
barn  stood  a  separate  little  dwelling-house,  in 
which  lived  as  pensioners  old  disabled  servants, 


18  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

whom  Norby  would  not  allow  to  become  a  burden 
upon  the  parish. 

"Put  a  cloth  over  the  horse,  and  don't  give  him 
water  just  yet,"  said  he  to  the  stable-man,  as, 
whip  in  hand,  he  tramped  up  the  steps  to  the 
house,  followed  by  the  dog. 


CHAPTER  H 

MABIT  NOBBY  was  proud — with  the  peasant 
women,  because  she  looked  down  upon  them,  and 
with  the  wives  of  the  local  authorities,  because 
she  was  afraid  they  might  look  down  upon  her. 

"Oh,  of  course,"  she  would  say  with  her  own 
peculiar  smile,  "we  who  live  in  the  country  know 
nothing  at  all!" 

"You  are  late,"  she  said,  when  Knut  came  in. 
She  was  sitting  with  her  knitting  in  the  little 
room  between  the  kitchen  and  the  large  sitting- 
rooms.  She  wore  a  little  cap  upon  her  silvery 
hair,  like  the  pastor's  wife;  and  her  face  was 
refined  and  handsome,  with  a  firm  mouth  and 
prominent  chin. 

"The  school  meeting  was  a  lengthy  one,"  said 
Knut,  as  he  stood  rubbing  his  hands  in  front  of 
the  stove. 

"How  did  it  go?"  she  asked,  meaning  the  mat- 
ter that  she  knew  Knut  had  wanted  to  carry  in 
the  school  committee  that  day. 

"It  went  of  course  as  badly  as  it  could  go," 
said  Knut,  turning  his  back  to  the  stove.  He 
thought  he  saw  a  sarcastic  gleam  in  his  wife's  eye 
when  he  faced  her,  and  his  anger  rose.  Was  it 
not  enough  to  have  had  strangers  worrying  him 
to-day,  without  having  his  own  people  begin  too? 


20  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

Of  course  she  thought  him  a  poor  creature;  and 
what  would  she  say  when  she  heard  about 
Wangen? 

"It  seems  to  me  you  always  lose,  Knut,"  she 
said,  sticking  a  knitting-needle  into  her  hair. 

"Always?    No,  indeed  I  do  not!" 

She  knew  that  tone,  and  added  adroitly,  as  she 
took  the  knitting-needle  out  again  and  went  on 
knitting : 

"Yes,  you  are  always  so  much  too  good,  while 
those  who  don't  possess  a  penny,  and  don't  pay  a 
farthing  in  taxes,  govern  us  and  order  us  about, 
and  we  have  just  to  say  'Thank  you'  and  pay." 

This  was  a  healing  balm,  as  she  gave  expression 
to  the  very  sentiment  that  Norby  himself  was 
accustomed  to  propound. 

"I  suppose  you've  heard  what  has  happened  to 
Wangen,"  she  said,  smiling  grimly  at  her  knitting. 

"She  knows  it,  then,  confound  it !"  thought  the 
old  man.  He  was  standing  in  front  of  the  stove 
with  his  hands  behind  him,  black-bearded,  bald, 
with  his  blue  serge  coat  buttoned  tightly  across 
his  broad  chest.  His  large  head  drooped  wearily 
upon  his  breast,  and  he  glanced  at  his  wife  from 
beneath  his  eyebrows.  He  did  not  feel  equal  to 
any  explanations  this  evening.  He  had  been  out 
in  the  cold  for  several  hours,  and  the  warmth  of 
the  house  made  him  feel  increasingly  heavy  and 
sleepy. 

"Yes,   indeed!"   he   said  with  a  yawn;  "who 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  21 

would  have  thought  of  such  a  thing  happening?" 

She  gave  a  little  scornful  laugh. 

"It  seems  to  me  you  have  prophesied  it  often 
enough  of  late,"  she  said.  "But  you  may  be  glad 
you've  had  nothing  to  do  with  him." 

"She  doesn't  know,"  thought  Norby,  with  a 
feeling  of  relief. 

"Ye-es,"  he  growled  in  an  uncertain  tone  of 
voice,  his  eyes  dropping  once  more.  He  was  not 
equal  to  either  the  sacrament  matter  or  Wangen 
this  evening. 

Hearing  at  that  moment  a  well-known  laugh  in 
the  adjoining  room,  he  took  the  opportunity  of 
slipping  out. 

When  he  entered  the  next  room,  his  daughter- 
in-law  was  sitting  by  a  steaming  bath  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor,  occupied  in  undressing  her  two- 
year-old  son,  preparatory  to  giving  him  his  bath. 

The  old  man  paused  at  the  door,  and  his  tired 
face  suddenly  lit  up. 

"Who  is  that?"  asked  the  fair-haired  young 
mother,  looking  at  the  child.  The  boy  looked  at 
his  grandfather  with  large,  round  eyes,  and 
laughed  a  little  shyly ;  but  no  sooner  was  his  vest 
drawn  over  his  head  than  he  wriggled  down  to  the 
floor  to  run  to  Norby.  On  gaining  his  liberty, 
however,  he  discovered  the  fact  that  he  was  naked, 
and  this  was  even  more  interesting  than  his  grand- 
father. He  began  to  run  backwards  and  forwards 
upon  the  floor,  slapping  his  little  body  and  laugh- 


22  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

ing.  Then  he  caught  sight  of  his  small  breasts, 
and  touched  them  with  his  fore-finger,  then  evaded 
once  more  the  grasp  of  his  mother,  who  tried  to 
catch  him,  and  laughed  in  triumph  as  he  escaped. 
The  old  man  was  obliged  to  sit  down  and  laugh 
too. 

"Well,  I  shall  go  and  get  something  good  from 
grandfather !"  said  his  mother ;  and  in  a  twinkling 
the  boy  had  climbed  upon  the  old  man's  knee,  and 
began  an  investigation  of  all  his  pockets,  until  a 
packet  of  sweets  was  brought  to  light. 

The  boy's  name  was  Knut,  of  course.  His 
father,  Norby's  eldest  son,  had  been  thrown  from 
his  sledge  and  killed  when  driving  home  from 
Lillehammer  fair  before  the  boy  was  born;  and 
ever  since  the  old  man  had  had  a  horror  of  strong 
drink. 

A  secret  worry  very  quickly  assumes  the  dimen- 
sions of  an  actual  misfortune.  Just  because  the 
old  man  was  tired  and  wanted  to  be  left  in  peace, 
he  felt  the  explanation  he  must  have  with  his  wife 
to  be  doubly  painful.  With  his  grandchild  he 
always  became  a  child  himself;  but  this  evening 
he  could  see  nothing  but  Wangen  all  the  time,  and 
this  irritated  him.  While  he  sat  and  smiled  at 
the  boy,  he  suddenly  glanced  aside,  as  much  as 
to  say :  "Cannot  you  leave  me  in  peace  even  here  ?" 
Wangen  penetrated,  as  it  were,  into  the  old  man's 
holy  of  holies,  and  Norby  wanted  to  turn  him 
out.  He  began  to  look  upon  Wangen  as  his 


23 


enemy  because  he  had  brought  dissension  into  his 
house,  and  because  Norby  had  been  guilty  of  a 
little  deception  towards  his  wife,  which  would  now 
have  to  be  unveiled. 

"Now  it's  time  for  the  bath,"  said  the  mother, 
taking  up  her  boy,  and  while  he  splashed  and 
screamed  in  the  water,  the  old  man  stood  as  he 
always  did,  and  laughed  until  the  tears  ran  down 
his  cheeks.  But  all  the  time  he  had  a  dim  vision 
of  Wangen's  brickfields;  and  remembered  how  last 
autumn  Wangen  had  instituted  an  eight-hours 
working-day.  It  was  just  like  the  fool!  It  would 
be  a  nice  thing  to  be  a  farmer  if  such  mad  ideas 
spread  and  made  labour  conditions  even  worse 
than  they  were!  Was  it  to  be  wondered  at  if 
such  men  went  bankrupt?  But  it  wasn't  his  fault 
if  Wangen  said  more  than  he  meant  on  that  sub- 
ject when  it  was  a  question  of  inducing  people 
to  stand  surety  for  him.  And  the  old  man  began 
to  pace  the  floor. 

"Won't  grandfather  say  good-night  to  us?" 
said  his  daughter-in-law,  as  the  old  man  went  to 
the  door  as  if  about  to  rush  out  in  a  rage.  Norby 
woke  up.  The  boy  was  ready  for  bed,  and  was 
stretching  out  his  arms  towards  him. 

The  family  had  supper  in  the  little  room  be- 
tween the  kitchen  and  the  large  rooms.  Since  the 
new  house  had  been  built,  they  had  been  literally 
homeless,  for  none  of  them  were  at  ease  in  the 
large,  sparely-furnished  rooms,  and  they  were  too 


24  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

much  cramped  for  space  in  the  little  room.  The 
hanging  lamp  with  its  glass  pendants  shed  its 
light  upon  the  tea-things  and  the  white  cloth,  and 
a  large  copper  kettle  shone  upon  the  old  side- 
board. Five  people  sat  down  to  supper.  There 
were  two  daughters,  Ingeborg  and  Laura,  who 
sat  one  on  each  side  of  their  father;  opposite 
him  sat  his  wife,  with  a  silver  chain  about  her 
neck,  and  a  reserved  expression  on  her  face,  and 
her  daughter-in-law  by  her  side.  They  still  had 
one  son  living,  but  he  was  in  Christiania  studying 
philology. 

"I  must  get  you  to  put  out  my  forest  clothes 
this  evening,"  said  Norby  to  Ingeborg;  "I  must 
go  and  see  to  the  timber- felling  in  the  morning." 

Ingeborg  was  the  good  angel  of  the  house.  Her 
fiance,  a  young  doctor,  had  been  found  dead  in  his 
bed  three  days  before  their  wedding,  and  since  then 
she  had  never  been  the  same.  Although  she  was 
not  much  more  than  five-and-twenty,  her  hair  was 
sprinkled  with  grey,  her  cheeks  were  hollow,  and 
her  eyes  had  a  timid,  far-away  look  in  them.  She 
was  worrying  already  as  to  what  would  become  of 
her  when  her  parents  died ;  and  in  order  to  run  no 
risk  of  being  left  with  a  bad  conscience,  she  was 
constantly  occupied  in  attending  to  their  wants, 
was  the  first  up  in  the  morning,  was  always  busy 
in  the  kitchen  and  larder,  shed  tears  of  despair 
when  she  had  forgotten  anything,  and  in  spite  of 
all  this  thought  herself  quite  useless  in  the  house. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  £5 

"Do  you  eat  as  inelegantly  when  you  are  in 
town  as  you  do  here?"  said  the  mother  to  Laura, 
looking  sternly  at  her. 

Laura  looked  a  little  embarrassed,  and  tried  to 
throw  an  obstinate  lock  of  hair  off  her  rosy  face ; 
but  she  was  not  long  in  regaining  her  cheerful- 
ness. 

She  went  to  school  in  town,  and  now  began  to 
talk  about  her  old  teacher  and  her  mincing  ways, 
her  snuff-box  and  her  inky  fingers.  "Dear  chil- 
dren," she  mimicked,  making  an  exceedingly  funny 
face,  and  pretending  to  take  a  pinch  of  snuff ;  "do 
sit  still  and  don't  give  me  so  much  trouble !"  Her 
sister-in-law  laughed,  showing  as  she  did  so  the 
absence  of  a  front  tooth;  her  mother  could  not 
help  smiling,  and  even  the  old  man  glanced  merrily 
at  the  lively  girl. 

"I  will  write  to  him  to-morrow,"  he  said  to 
himself  as  he  emptied  his  cup.  "I  am  sure  it  was 
not  more  than  two  thousand,  and  if  there  is 
more " 

When  at  last  he  got  into  bed  in  his  room  on  the 
first  floor,  he  put  out  the  light  on  the  table  by 
his  bedside,  and  yawned  wearily.  "I'll  pretend  to 
be  asleep  when  she  comes  up,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"and  then  I  shall  be  spared  both  sacrament  and 
guarantee  for  this  evening." 

As  he  lay  looking  at  the  red  glow  from  the 
half-closed  draught  of  the  stove,  the  door  opened, 
and  Laura  crept  softly  in.  She  seated  herself  on 


the  edge  of  her  father's  bed,  stroked  his  beard 
two  or  three  times,  and  then  confided  to  him  in  a 
whisper  that  her  monthly  account  was  in  terrible 
disorder.  Her  mother  had  not  gone  over  it  yet, 
but  she  might  ask  for  it  any  day  now. 

"And  you  think  you  can  cheat  me  as  much  as 
you  like,  do  you?"  said  the  old  man  from  his 
pillows.  The  child  withdrew  her  hand  from  his 
beard  in  some  confusion,  but  he  caught  it,  and 
as  he  felt  how  small  and  soft  it  was,  he  said  in 
a  sleepy  voice: 

"You  must  come  into  my  office  to-morrow,  then, 
and  we  shall  see!" 

The  girl  stroked  his  beard  once  more,  and  laid 
her  cheek  against  his,  for  she  knew  now  that  her 
deficit  would  be  made  good. 

She  had  scarcely  gone  when  the  door  opened 
again.  The  old  man  hastily  closed  his  eyes;  but 
it  was  Ingeborg  with  the  clothes  he  had  asked  for 
upon  her  arm. 

"Isn't  some  one  crossing  the  yard  with  a  lan- 
tern?" asked  her  father,  seeing  a  light  upon  the 
blind. 

"Yes,  it's  the  dairymaid,"  said  Ingeborg ;  "she's 
expecting  a  calf  to-night." 

And  now  Ingeborg  too  came  and  sat  upon  his 
bed. 

"There's  something  I  must  tell  you,  father," 
she  began  softly.  "When  I  was  at  the  post-office 
to-day,  I  heard  that  Lawyer  Basting  had  been 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  27; 

declaring  that  you  would  suffer  too  by  this  fail- 
ure. I  didn't  dare  to  tell  mother  until  I  had 
spoken  to  you  about  it." 

The  old  man  had  made  up  his  mind  to  be  left 
in  peace  for  this  evening,  so  he  said: 

"Poor  Basting !  He's  always  got  something  or 
other  to  chatter  about." 

"I  was  sure  it  was  untrue,"  said  Ingeborg,  ris- 
ing; and  after  drawing  the  blind  farther  down, 
she  quietly  left  the  room  again. 

The  next  morning,  before  Norby  rose,  his  wife 
asked  him  whether  he  had  remembered  to  call  at 
the  clerk's.  Upon  his  saying  that  he  had  not,  a 
scene  ensued,  and  Marit  left  the  room,  slamming 
the  door  behind  her,  and  threatening  to  go  to 
the  sacrament  alone. 

Norby  lay  in  bed  longer  than  usual,  for  when 
Marit  was  thoroughly  roused,  as  she  was  to-day, 
she  would  sometimes  not  utter  a  word  for  a  week 
at  a  time;  and  then  neither  of  them  was  willing 
to  stoop  low  enough  to  be  the  first  to  bridge  the 
gulf  that  separated  them,  and  break  the  silence. 

When  at  last  he  came  down  and  went  out  into 
the  yard,  one  of  the  men  came  up  to  him  and  asked 
with  a  knowing  smile  whether  it  were  really  true 
that  Wangen  had  forged  somebody's  signature. 

"It  would  be  very  like  him  if  he  had!"  said 
Norby,  looking  up  at  the  sky  to  see  if  it  were 
weather  for  tree-felling.  The  man,  who  was 
busied  in  shovelling  the  snow  from  the  road,  leaned 


28  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

upon  his  spade,  and  looking  askance  at  the  old 
man,  continued : 

"We've  heard  that  it's  your  name.  He's  been 
boasting  that  it's  Norby  himself  that  is  surety 
for  him ;  but  now  we  hear  from  the  house  servants 
that  it's  a  lie." 

"It's  no  business  of  that  idiot's  anyhow!" 
thought  the  old  man,  and  passed  on  without 
answering. 

But  on  going  round  by  the  barn,  where  thresh- 
ing was  in  progress,  he  had  the  same  question  of 
Wangen's  forgery  put  to  him.  He  still  made  no 
answer,  but  plunged  his  hand  into  the  grain  at 
the  back  of  the  machine,  whereupon  an  old 
labourer  said,  as  he  scratched  his  head : 

"Well,  well;  haven't  I  always  said  that  man 
would  see  the  inside  of  a  prison  some  day?" 

This,  however,  made  Norby  a  little  uneasy.  "If 
it  comes  out  that  I  have  circulated  a  report  like 
that,"  he  thought,  "he  can  make  it  unpleasant 
for  me,  and  give  people  enough  to  talk  about." 
He  was  on  the  point  of  nipping  the  report  in 
the  bud  by  explaining  matters,  when  he  caught 
sight,  through  the  barn-door,  of  the  smith  going 
along  the  road  with  a  sack  upon  his  back. 

"Has  the  smith  been  in  here?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer  from  several  voices 
amidst  the  rustling  of  straw  in  the  half-dark- 
ness. 

"Then  he  knows  it  too !"  thought  Norby ;  "and 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  29 

by  the  evening  it  will  be  all  over  the  parish.  I 
must  stop  the  smith ! — Why,  he  was  to  have  come 
and  done  the  new  sledges !"  he  said  aloud  as  a  pre- 
text for  rushing  out  and  hastening  down  the  road 
after  the  smith. 

The  snow-plough  had  not  been  driven  along  the 
road  since  the  fall  during  the  night,  and  it  was 
heavy  walking  and  still  heavier  running.  The 
farther  the  old  man  ran,  the  angrier  he  became. 
"Here  am  I  running  like  a  madman,"  he  thought, 
"and  all  because  I've  helped  that  rogue! — Ola, 
Ola !"  he  shouted,  waving  his  hand. 

But  the  sack  on  the  smith's  back  could  neither 
see  nor  hear,  and  the  old  man  had  to  go  on  run- 
ning. The  tale  must  be  stopped,  or  he  might  have 
to  pay  dearly  for  it. 

At  last  the  smith  stopped  because  he  met  a  man 
on  ski;  but  before  Norby  came  up  to  them  the 
man  had  gone  on  down  the  hill. 

"What's  this  I  hear?"  said  the  smith,  advanc- 
ing a  few  steps  towards  Norby.  "That  Wangen 
is  a  nice  fellow,  he  is !  He's  fleeced  me  too.  I've 
just  got  a  bill  from  him  for  a  sack  of  rye-flour 
that  I  paid  for  down !" 

"It's  a  lie!"  cried  Norby,  thinking  of  the 
forgery,  and  breathless  after  his  run. 

"A  lie?  No,  indeed  it's  not ;  it's  as  true  as  I'm 
standing  here!"  said  the  smith,  thinking  of  his 
flour. 

But  now  the  old  man  recollected  the  man  on  ski. 


so 


"Did  you  tell  that  man  about  Wangen?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes,  indeed  I  did,"  said  the  smith.  "Ah, 
they're  bad  times  these!" 

Norby  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face, 
removing  his  cap  and  wiping  the  crown  of  his 
head,  as  he  turned  and  gazed  after  the  man  on 
ski,  who  was  now  gaily  scudding  down  towards 
the  fjord,  raising  a  cloud  of  snow  as  he  went. 
And  that  story  was  flying  down  with  him! 

Knut  Norby  stood  there  utterly  helpless,  gaz- 
ing after  him. 

"It's  no  use  now  my  making  a  fool  of  myself 
either  to  the  smith  or  the  men,"  he  said  to  him- 
self; "for  the  devil  himself 's  gone  off  with  the 
report,  and  I'm  in  a  pretty  fix!" 

"You  were  calling  to  me,  weren't  you  ?"  said  the 
smith.  "Was  there  anything  you  wanted?" 

"Yes,  there  was!"  cried  the  old  man,  turning 
upon  him  angrily.  "Confound  you!  You've 
promised  for  months  past  to  come  and  fix  up  my 
sledges ;  but  you're  a  rascal,  that's  what  you  are ! 
You  owe  me  money  and  you  won't  pay.  I'll  set 
the  bailiff  upon  you  this  very  day !"  And  Norby 
set  off  homewards,  leaving  the  smith  standing  with 
his  sack  on  his  back,  staring  after  him. 

"This  forgery  must  have  made  him  daft!"  he 
thought,  as  he  turned  and  went  slowly  on  his  way. 


CHAPTER  HI 

As  Knut  plodded  homewards,  he  felt  like  a  man 
whose  hat  has  been  blown  off  his  head,  and  who 
cannot  find  out  which  way  it  has  gone.  He  could 
not  conceive  how  this  rumour  about  Wangen's 
forgery  had  arisen,  but  at  the  same  time  he  felt 
that  in  reality  he  himself  was  responsible  for  it. 
It  was  of  course  the  women-folk  who  had  mis- 
understood him  yesterday  evening  when  he  was 
tired  and  wanted  to  be  quiet.  And  then  it  had 
gone  by  way  of  the  kitchen  to  the  farm-hands. 
And  by  the  evening  the  whole  parish  would  be 
full  of  the  story,  for  it  would  be  quite  a  tit-bit  to 
carry  about.  And  Wangen?  Of  course  he  would 
take  the  opportunity  to  bring  an  action  against 
Norby.  He  almost  wished  he  had  had  a  rifle  in 
his  hand,  so  that  he  could  have  shot  the  man  on 
ski,  who  was  flying  along  with  that  confounded 
story.  If  he  had  not  existed,  Norby  would  have 
had  the  hard  task  of  going  to  his  men  and  saying : 
"This  is  a  misunderstanding  about  Wangen.  I 
am  actually  surety  for  him ;  he  has  not  forged  my 
signature."  But  now  there  would  be  the  whole 
parish  to  go  to,  and  the  thought  of  it  made  him 
furious. 

He  first  turned  his  steps  towards  the  kitchen 
entrance,  to  give  the  maid-servants  a  scolding,  but 


32  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

stopped  half-way  across  the  yard.  "If  there's 
going  to  be  any  unpleasantness  over  this,"  he 
thought,  "I  shall  have  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it 
after  all,  and  I  suppose  I'm  master  in  my 
house." 

Nothing  came  of  his  projected  forest  excursion 
that  day.  He  went  instead  to  the  stables,  and 
threatened  to  discharge  the  stableman  because  a 
young  horse  was  badly  curried.  Then  he  sud- 
denly made  his  appearance  in  the  barn,  just  when 
the  men  were  taking  a  rest,  and  gave  them  a  talk- 
ing to.  Finally  he  went  into  his  office,  and  began 
to  write  dunning  letters  to  a  number  of  his 
debtors. 

"I  shall  be  fined,  of  course,  and  shall  perhaps 
have  to  make  a  retractation  in  the  newspaper,"  was 
his  thought  all  the  time  he  was  writing.  "This  is 
all  one  gets  for  helping  such  good-for-nothings — 
domestic  scenes,  loss  of  money,  and  in  addition 
to  that  you  make  a  fool  of  yourself,  and  lose  your 
good  name!" 

The  door  opened,  and  to  his  great  astonishment 
Marit  entered.  If  she  was  going  to  break  the 
silence  already,  something  unusual  must  be  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  She  had  better  not  come  too  and 
worry  him  about  this ! 

She  stood  erect,  with  both  hands  hanging  down 
and  her  chin  thrust  forward,  and  began  in  a 
vibrating  voice: 

"I  can  see  you  intend  to  keep  this  from  me,  but 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  SS 

I  just  want  to  ask  you  whether  you  are  going  to 
report  him  to  the  bailiff." 

Knut  sprang  up,  and  stood  with  legs  apart  and 
his  hands  behind  his  back. 

"To  the  bailiff?"  he  asked,  eyeing  her  over  the 
spectacles  he  used  for  writing.  "No,  indeed ;  I'm 
not  quite  crazy!" 

But  Marit  was  already  incensed  at  his  having 
failed  her  in  the  matter  of  the  sacrament,  and  she 
now  suspected  that  something  else  was  being  kept 
from  her.  She  came  a  step  nearer. 

"You  won't?"  she  cried,  her  voice  trembling 
still  more. 

The  old  man  began  to  breathe  hard.  Now  that 
he  was  angry,  her  self-importance  seemed  both 
ridiculous  and  irritating.  He  would  never  think 
of  confessing  his  misdeeds  to  this  impertinent 
creature !  . 

"What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  he  cried,  throwing 
back  his  head,  and  glaring  at  her  through  his 
spectacles. 

"I  want  you  to  go  to  the  bailiff." 

"Leave  the  room !    I  will  be  left  in  peace !" 

But  she  laughed  scornfully. 

"Oh,  I  see  you  would  rather  pay,  and  pay  even 
if  your  children  hadn't  a  rag  to  their  backs !  And 
after  this  any  rogue  can  make  use  of  your  name, 
and  you'll  pay !  Or" — and  she  laughed  again,  and 
looked  sharply  at  him — "perhaps  you  have  backed 
his  bill?  Yes,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you're  guilty." 


34  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

The  word  "guilty"  sounded  as  if  she  suspected 
him  of  murder  or  theft.  He  became  purple  with 
anger,  but  could  find  no  words  to  express  his 
indignation.  Then  he  caught  his  breath,  raised 
his  arm  as  if  to  strike,  and  pushed  her  out  of 
the  room. 

Some  time  had  elapsed  when  he  heard  sledge- 
bells  in  the  yard,  and  looking  out,  he  saw  that  it 
was  Marit  driving  off.  Oh,  indeed!  They  were 
beginning  to  take  the  horses  out  of  the  stable 
without  asking  his  leave,  were  they?  "The  next 
thing  she'll  take  will  be  my  breeches,"  he  said  to 
himself,  beginning  to  pace  the  floor,  as  his  habit 
was  when  angry. 

A  little  later  he  heard  the  bells  returning.  He 
did  not  look  out,  but  lay  down  upon  the  leather 
sofa  and  closed  his  eyes.  Soon  after  he  heard  the 
well-known  steps  in  the  passage,  the  door  opened, 
and  Marit  entered ;  but  the  old  man  lay  still  with 
his  eyes  closed. 

She  began  at  once,  while  she  untied  the  strings 
of  her  bonnet. 

"I  know  quite  well  you're  man  enough  to  order 
me  to  leave  the  room  once  more ;  but  as  you're  not 
man  enough  to  look  after  your  own  affairs,  I  shall 
have  to  do  it  for  you ;  and  as  sure  as  I'm  mistress 
in  this  house,  this  shall  not  pass.  So  now  I've 
been  to  the  bailiff." 

Knut  rose  slowly,  pushing  the  rug  aside.  He 
gazed  at  her,  opened  his  mouth  and  gazed.  At 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  35 

last  he  passed  his  hand  through  his  beard,  and 
then  over  his  bald  head,  and  said  in  an  uncom- 
fortably ordinary  tone  of  voice : 

"Oh,  have  you  been  to  the  bailiff,  Marit?" 

"Yes !  When  there  are  no  men  on  the  farm,  the 
women  have  to  go  out  to  work,"  she  said.  "I 
didn't  come  quite  empty-handed  when  I  became 
mistress  at  Norby,  and  I  didn't  mean  to  let  you 
give  my  share  to  tramps  and  beggars." 

Knut  turned  pale,  but  once  more  passed  his 
hand  over  his  bald  crown  and  through  his  beard, 
and  tried  to  laugh.  She  could  hardly  have 
wounded  the  capable  Knut  Norby  more  deeply,  for 
he  had  about  doubled  their  fortune. 

Marit  now  deemed  it  wisest  to  withdraw,  but 
she  closed  the  door  slowly  behind  her,  and  walked 
with  slow  firm  step.  Knut  remained  sitting,  and 
again  passed  his  hand  over  his  head  two  or  three 
times.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Norby  thought 
of  going  after  his  wife  and  thrashing  her,  for 
domestic  peace  was  at  an  end  anyhow. 

He  rose  and  began  to  wander  about  with  his 
thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  waistcoat.  Now 
and  again  he  stood  still  as  if  to  make  quite  cer- 
tain whether  this  was  not  a  dream  from  which  he 
might  awake.  But  there  stood  the  outhouses 
right  enough,  painted  red,  and  a  magpie  let  itself 
slip  down  the  sloping  roof,  and  left  a  furrow  in 
the  snow;  and  there  hung  Johan  Sverdrup  over 
the  writing-table,  and  he  himself  stood  here  and 


86  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

still  had  his  forest  clothes  on.  No,  it  must  be 
true  after  all  that  his  wife  had  been  to  the  bailiff 
— with  this 

The  floor  seemed  to  become  insecure  beneath  his 
feet,  the  office  became  too  small,  and  he  had  to  go 
into  the  large  corner  room,  where  he  began  to 
walk  about  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  Here 
there  was  mahogany  furniture  and  there  were 
large  gilt-framed  mirrors  and  other  splendours, 
but  now  it  seemed  to  Norby  as  if  they  were  his 
no  longer.  He  stood  still  again  and  again  to 
wonder:  "Is  it  you,  Norby,  or  is  it  not?" 

He  stood  at  the  window  in  the  white  light  re- 
flected from  the  snow,  and  looked  out  at  the  half- 
buried  garden.  But  it  was  not  the  trees  he  saw. 
He  saw  himself  being  driven  down  the  hill  by  the 
bailiff  on  his  way  to  prison  for  having  brought  a 
false  accusation. 

He  turned  suddenly  round,  and  went  resolutely 
towards  the  door,  but  stopped  with  his  hand  on 
the  handle.  He  felt  that  it  was  utterly  impossi- 
ble to  go  to  his  wife  now  and  tell  her  the  truth, 
in  the  first  place  because  he  felt  more  inclined  to 
thrash  her,  and  in  the  second  because  he  did  not 
know  how  she  would  take  such  a  communication. 
She  would  perhaps  only  faint  with  rage  at  having 
run  like  a  fool  to  the  village,  but  she  might  also 
do  something  worse. 

He  mounted  the  stairs  to  his  room  in  order  to 
change  his  clothes.  He  must  go  to  the  bailiff. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  37 

But  when  his  trousers  were  off,  and  he  was  about 
to  pull  on  his  blue  serge  ones,  his  hands  dropped 
and  he  sighed  heavily. 

"Now  isn't  all  this  a  sin  and  a  shame!"  he 
thought.  "First  I  help  the  man  out  of  kindness, 
then  I  have  to  pay  up,  then  there's  a  row  in  the 
house,  and  then  I  run  about  and  make  a  fool  of 
myself.  And  now  I  was  actually  going  off  to  hold 
up  my  wife  to  the  ridicule  of  the  whole  parish! 
No,  that  is  really  going  too  far!" 

He  remained  sitting  with  the  new  trousers  in 
his  hand.  Yesterday's  unpleasant  picture  of 
Wangen  had  become  still  more  unpleasant  now, 
for  in  reality  he  was  to  blame  for  all  this  to-day 

too.  And  for  that  man  he  was  ready  to ! 

The  old  man  suddenly  threw  down  the  serge  trou- 
sers, and  drew  on  the  old  ones;  for  if  he  did 
withdraw  his  accusation  from  the  bailiff,  he  would 
still  have  to  answer  for  the  report.  And  go  to 
Wangen  and  eat  humble  pie?  To  ask  pardon  of 
that  man  ?  Never !  Never  would  he  do  it ! 

No,  there  must  be  some  back  way  out  of  this. 
He  would  think  it  over. 

Knut  Norby  suddenly  found  himself  in  a  mis- 
fortune for  which  he  himself  was  not  exactly  to 
blame,  but  for  which  he  had  to  bear  the  respon- 
sibility. He  did  not  therefore  feel  the  responsi- 
bility to  be  quite  so  heavy  as  it  otherwise  would 
have  been.  All  the  misery  that  had  come  upon 
his  house  to-day  was  thanks  to  his  kindness  in 


38  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

helping  that  fellow.  It  was  Wangen's  fault 
altogether. 

When  the  old  man  was  sitting  in  the  little  room 
at  dusk,  he  heard  little  Knut  laughing  in  the  next 
room,  and  rose  to  go  in  to  him,  but  stopped  at 
the  door.  He  was  not  equal  to  seeing  little  Knut 
to-day. 

"Perhaps  he  had  a  hand  in  bringing  your 
father  to  such  a  bad  end  too,"  he  said  to  himself, 
thinking  of  the  child.  At  any  rate,  Wangen  was 
at  Lillehammer  fair  that  time. 

One  day  went  by,  and  then  another.  The  old 
man  was  on  thorns.  But  every  time  he  thought 
of  changing  his  clothes  and  going  to  the  bailiff, 
he  half  unconsciously  began  to  conjure  up  a  pic- 
ture of  Wangen,  to  remember  bad  things  about 
him,  to  place  him  in  a  ridiculous  or  an  odious 
light,  to  impute  to  him  all  kinds  of  repulsive  fail- 
ings; and  this  gave  him  fresh  courage  to  put 
off  going,  and  he  felt  it  more  and  more  impossible 
that  he  should  humble  himself  to  such  a  man. 

And  suppose  that  Wangen  was  to  blame  for  his 
son's  death?  Although  this  possibility  made  the 
old  man  sick  with  anger,  he  was  still  uneasy  in 
his  mind.  The  witness,  Jorgen  Haarstad,  was 
dead,  it  was  true;  but  Knut  Norby  would  not 
disown  his  signature.  There  must  be  some  back 
way  out  of  it. 


CHAPTER  IV 

HENRY  WANGEN  descended  from  the  snow-covered 
train  from  Christiania,  and  with  his  bag  in  his 
hand  hurried  homewards.  He  exchanged  greet- 
ings with  no  one.  His  failure  would  ruin  half  the 
parish,  and  he  knew  that  people  stood  and  looked 
after  him  as  they  would  after  a  rogue  they  would 
like  to  thrash. 

He  was  a  man  of  about  five-and-thirty,  tall  and 
spare,  with  a  reddish  beard  and  a  refined,  youth- 
ful face.  But  he  walked  like  an  old  man.  His 
going  humbly  from  one  merchant  to  another  in 
Christiania  had  been  in  vain;  and  he  dreaded 
going  home,  because  his  wife  must  at  last  be  told 
the  truth. 

Henry  Wangen  was  the  son  of  a  magistrate 
who  had  misappropriated  the  public  funds.  He 
had  tried  many  occupations,  but  was  an  agricul- 
turist when  he  married  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy 
farmer.  Her  father,  who  had  long  opposed  the 
marriage,  made  it  a  condition  that  she  should 
have  the  control  of  her  own  property.  But  when 
Wangen  started  the  brickfields,  he  not  only  ob- 
tained his  wife's  confidence  and  money,  but  he 
was  so  eloquent  and  enthusiastic  that  he  also 
induced  her  father  and  brother,  and  many  others, 
to  entrust  him  with  their  money.  And  now? 


40  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

When  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  bridge,  where 
a  number  of  cottages  are  dotted  over  the  hill,  he 
met  a  bent  figure  in  a  faded  overcoat  and  fur  cap, 
with  a  toothless  mouth  and  a  pair  of  gold  spec- 
tacles upon  a  prominent  red  nose.  Wangen 
stopped,  opened  his  bag,  and  took  out  a  bottle 
wrapped  in  paper.  It  was  a  commission  he  had 
had  in  town.  The  man  wi£h  the  spectacles  smiled 
at  the  bottle  as  at  something  very  precious,  and 
put  it  under  his  arm. 

"I  say !"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "I've  got  a  little 
piece  of  news  for  you." 

But  Wangen  was  gone.  He  was  thinking  of  his 
wife,  who  was  expecting  their  fourth  child.  Could 
she  bear  what  he  had  to  tell  her? 

The  other  followed  him,  however,  and  took  hold 
of  his  arm. 

"Oh,  but  you  must  wait  and  hear  the  news!" 
he  said,  and  laughed  a  little  spitefully.  "Come 
in  a  moment,  and  taste  the  purchase." 

"No,  I  can't  just  now,"  said  Wangen,  hurrying 
on.  Wangen  had  unfortunately  more  than  once 
allowed  himself  to  be  tempted  by  this  inebriate 
consul  from  Christiania,  whose  relations  boarded 
him  here  in  the  country;  but  now  he  was  deter- 
mined to  be  thoroughly  sober  when  he  got  home. 
The  elder  man  still  hung  upon  his  arm,  however, 
and  spoke  so  persuasively  that  he  at  length 
allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  into  his  little  house. 

At  the  window  of  the  low  room  they  entered, 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  41 

which  smelt  of  whisky  and  tobacco,  sat  a  lean, 
tailor-like  figure,  playing  patience.  This  was  the 
third  member  of  the  whisky-drinking  trio,  an  old 
lawyer,  crippled  with  rheumatism,  and  long  since 
past  work.  He  went  by  the  name  of  "the  late 
future  prime  minister." 

"Sit  down!"  said  the  consm,  but  Wangen  re- 
mained standing  with  his  bag  in  his  hand. 

"Shall  we  have  a  game  at  cards  ?"  said  the  man 
at  the  window,  smiling  in  his  white  beard. 

"Hold  your  tongue!"  said  the  consul,  busying 
himself  with  the  rinsing  of  two  glasses.  "We're 
first  going  to  have  a  glass  of  three-stars." 

"No,  I  won't  have  any!"  said  Wangen.  "But 
what  was  it  that  I  positively  must  hear?" 

"Just  you  sit  down,  my  boy!"  said  the  consul, 
chuckling  as  he  held  up  a  glass  to  the  light. 
"Upon  my  word,  the  world  is  worse  than  I 
thought." 

This  meant  a  good  deal,  for  the  consul  was  not 
accustomed  to  judge  people  leniently. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Wangen.  "Has  anything 
happened  to  my  wife?" 

The  consul  placed  the  glasses  on  the  table,  and 
fixed  his  little,  venomous  eyes  upon  Wangen,  while 
his  red  nose  wrinkled  in  a  smile. 

"Oh  well,  so  many  things  happen,"  he  said. 
"Now  for  instance,  what  is  your  opinion  of  the 
great  man  at  Norby?" 

"Norby  ?    I  really  don't  know.    I've  got  enough 


42  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

to  do  to  look  after  myself.     But  I  must  go." 

"Wait !"  said  the  consul.  "Norby  must  have  a 
spite  against  you,  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  means 
to  get  you  sent  to  prison  because  you  have  forged 
his  signature." 

The  prime  minister  looked  up  from  his  patience, 
and  tried  to  see  by  Wangen's  face  whether  he 
should  laugh  or  not. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  during  which  the  con- 
sul enjoyed  the  situation  and  continued  to  gaze  at 
Wangen  through  his  spectacles. 

Wangen  broke  into  a  laugh,  and  involuntarily 
stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  filled  glass. 

"Your  health!"  he  said.  "That's  not  a  bad 
story!" 

"You  don't  believe  it,  perhaps  ?  Upon  my  word 
it's  true,  old  chap!  Ask  the  prime  minister!" 

The  late  future  prime  minister  nodded. 

Wangen  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other. 

"What's  all  this  nonsense  you're  talking?"  he 
said.  He  did  not  believe  it  yet. 

"You  may  well  say  so,"  said  the  consul  with  a 
venomous  smile.  "It's  a  delightful  world  we  live 
in!" 

"Has  any  one  been  to  tell  my  wife?"  Wangen's 
voice  trembled,  and  he  turned  pale.  He  reached 
out  his  hand  for  his  bag. 

"Yes,  she's  had  a  visitor,"  said  the  consul,  with 
his  most  venomous  glance. 

"The  bailiff?" 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  4flt 

"Yes." 

"Because — because  I've  committed  forgery?" 

"Exactly."  The  consul  was  enjoying  the  situ- 
ation to  such  an  extent  that  he  forgot  to  empty 
his  glass. 

Wangen  had  emptied  his,  and  now  held  it  out 
for  more. 

"Your  health !"  he  said.  "If  this  is  true,  then 
by  Jove  it'll  be  Norby  and  not  me  to  go  to 
prison !"  And  with  that  he  buttoned  up  his  coat 
and  hurried  to  the  door. 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  sometimes  happens  that  in  the  even  current  of 
our  lives  we  suddenly  meet  with  an  obstacle  that 
compels  us  to  pause  and  consider.  To  Henry 
Wangen  his  failure  was  such  an  obstacle  as  this. 
As  he  sat  in  the  train  on  his  way  home  from  town, 
with  unavoidable  ruin  staring  him  in  the  face,  he 
was  nearly  passing  sentence  of  death  upon  him- 
self. He  saw  that  his  failure,  which  brought  mis- 
fortune to  so  many,  was  due  to  his  own  incapacity 
and  recklessness.  It  was  terrible,  but  it  was  true. 

"This  is  a  consequence  of  never  having  taken 
the  trouble  to  acquire  thorough  knowledge,"  he 
thought.  "And  if  I  hadn't  so  often  sat  drinking 
far  into  the  night  at  the  consul's,  I  should  have 
had  more  judgment  in  my  business  the  next  day." 
Every  drowsy  or  lazy  moment  in  which  a  deter- 
mination was  taken  now  seemed  to  him  to  have 
come  to  life  in  the  form  of  a  starving,  despairing 
family.  "There !  There !" 

And  during  these  moments  of  calm  justice  to- 
wards himself,  he  saw  one  thing  that  impressed 
him  more  than  any  other,  namely,  that  his  kind- 
ness of  heart  had  really  been  a  greater  enemy  to 
him  than  drink ;  for  he  had  always  contented  him- 
self with  the  knowledge  that  he  meant  well.  And 
he  did  mean  it  all  so  well,  and  sheltered  by  this 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  45 

good  intention,  he  had  done  the  most  thoughtless 
acts,  and  always  with  a  good  conscience ;  for  good 
faith  was  always  ready  to  excuse  the  blackest  lies 
and  raise  them  into  the  light  of  truth. 

And  now?  Reality  had  no  use  for  good  faith; 
it  demanded  more. 

While  the  train  rolled  on,  he  also  saw  how  his 
pet  idea  for  the  improvement  of  the  conditions  of 
the  working-man,  an  eight-hours  working-day, 
had  also  helped  in  the  ruin.  So  it  was  not  only 
necessary  to  have  benevolent  ideas  in  this  world; 
they  must  be  such  as  did  not  bring  misfortune 
upon  those  they  were  intended  to  help,  as  they 
had  done  in  this  case. 

He  was  filled  with  a  dull  rage  against  himself, 
and  swore  that  he  would  not  rest  until  he  had 
paid  back  to  them  all  that  he  had  wheedled  out  of 
them.  He  swore  not  to  touch  strong  drink  again. 
He  was  fully  aware  that  this  was  not  enough.  He 
would  never,  never  be  able  to  make  up  for  the 
suffering  he  had  brought  upon  so  many. 

And  his  wife,  who  had  put  such  confidence  in 
him?  He  felt  as  if  he  could  have  taken  himself 
by  the  throat  and  called  himself  a  scoundrel. 

He  was  now  on  his  way  home  from  the  consul's 
after  having  heard  the  "news."  Strange  to  say, 
his  mind  had  become  more  composed.  He  did  not 
hang  his  head  any  longer.  He  walked  more 
easily.  He  did  not  know  himself  how  it  came 
about,  but  he  was  not  quite  so  afraid  of  going 


home    to    his    wife    and    confessing    the    truth. 

When  he  came  in  sight  of  his  house,  which  lay 
a  little  to  the  left  of  the  dark  mass  of  the  brick- 
kilns, he  saw  a  light  in  a  single  window.  He 
remembered  his  wife's  condition  and  the  bailiff's 
visit.  "Poor  Karen  !"  he  thought ;  "perhaps  she 
was  at  home,  alone  too."  And  a  flood  of  anger 
filled  his  heart,  anger  this  time  not  against  him- 
self, but  against  Norby.  "Is  he  quite  mad? 
What  does  he  mean  by  this?"  It  was  a  relief  to 
be  able  to  turn  his  indignation  against  others  than 
himself. 

When  he  entered  the  dining-room  where  he  had 
seen  the  light,  he  found  his  young  wife  sitting  by 
a  small  lamp.  She  rose  mechanically.  He  saw  at 
once  that  the  children  were  in  bed,  and  the  supper 
was  laid  and  waiting  for  him.  How  cosy  and 
peaceful  it  was !  But  in  the  middle  of  this  peace 
she  stood  pale  and  frightened,  gazing  at  him  as 
if  she  would  say:  "Tell  me  quickly,  is  it  true?" 

She  was  a  tall,  stately  woman,  not  yet  thirty 
years  of  age.  She  was  dressed  in  a  loose-fitting 
grey  dress,  and  her  wealth  of  fair  hair  was  set 
like  a  crown  upon  her  head.  Her  long  eyelashes 
gave  a  depth  and  brightness  to  her  eyes.  Her 
face  was  in  the  shadow  of  the  lamp-shade,  as  she 
stood  leaning  upon  the  back  of  a  chair,  motion- 
less, impatient  and  anxious. 

"I  know  all !"  he  said  abruptly,  stooping  to  put 
down  his  bag;  and  even  before  he  raised  himself 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  47 

again,  he  heard  her  drop  into  a  chair  and  burst 
into  tears. 

"I  thought  I  should  have  gone  out  of  my 
mind!"  she  sobbed. 

He  stood  looking  at  her.  She  did  not  come  up 
to  him  and  throw  her  arms  about  his  neck.  Did 
she  really  suspect  him?  His  indignation  and  pain 
at  this  again  felt  like  a  relief;  for  in  this  he  was 
innocent  at  any  rate ;  he  could  defend  himself  here 
with  a  good  conscience. 

He  went  up  to  her,  and  laid  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder. 

"Karen!"  he  said,  "do  you  believe  it?" 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  he  grew  more 
and  more  anxious.  At  last  she  raised  her  hand 
and  placed  it  in  his.  He  clasped  it;  it  was  so 
thin  and  helpless,  and  so  warm,  and  it  seemed  to 
give  him  all  her  confidence.  It  is  true  that  during 
the  last  few  days  she  had  often  reproached  him, 
and  had  mercilessly  demanded  from  him  the  return 
of  her  money ;  but  this  was  beyond  ordinary  lim- 
its, and  made  everything  else  seem  small,  and  now 
she  clung  to  him  confidingly. 

In  a  little  while  she  pointed  to  the  supper-table 
and  whispered:  "Won't  you  have  supper?"  And 
she  rose  slowly  and  went  to  the  stove  for  the  tea- 
pot. "Would  you  like  me  to  light  the  big  lamp?" 
she  asked  gently. 

"No,  dear,"  he  said,  seating  himself  at  the 
table,  and  beginning  to  eat,  more  for  the  purpose 


'48  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

of  removing  the  smell  of  whisky  than  of  satisfy- 
ing any  hunger.  He  noticed  that  there  was  a 
half-bottle  of  beer  upon  the  table,  and  this  posi- 
tively agitated  him.  They  could  not  afford  to 
drink  beer  now,  but  perhaps  she  had  found  this 
last  bottle  in  some  box,  and  in  spite  of  her  own 
troubles,  had  not  forgotten  to  put  it  on  the  table 
when  she  expected  him. 

"Have  you  had  supper?"  he  asked,  as  she  did 
not  come  to  the  table. 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  said;  "I  don't  think  I 
can  eat  anything." 

"Oh  yes,  Karen,"  he  said;  "Soren  will  want  his 
supper,  you  know." 

This  little  joke  seemed  so  strange  in  their  pres- 
ent gloomy  mood.  For  Soren  was  their  secret  pet- 
name  for  the  little  one  that  was  still  unborn. 
And  now,  when  the  father  said  this,  it  was  as 
though  a  little  bridge  of  gold  had  been  thrown 
between  them,  and  she  could  not  help  looking 
brightly  up  at  him  and  smiling. 

That  smile  seemed  to  light  up  the  room.  It 
relieved  them  both,  and  they  were  now  able  to  talk 
quietly  about  this  affair  with  Norby. 

"Can  you  imagine  what  has  made  him  do  it?" 
she  said,  as  she  poured  herself  out  a  cup  of  tea. 

He  felt  her  eyes  upon  him,  and  this  time  he 
could  raise  his  head  and  meet  them. 

"Well,  it  must  come  to  light  some  day.  It  is 
either  a  misunderstanding,  or " 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 


"Or?"  she  questioned. 

While  he  was  seeking  for  probable  reasons,  he 
felt  at  the  same  time  an  ill-defined  anxiety  lest  it 
should  only  be  a  misunderstanding.  A  star 
seemed  to  have  risen  in  the  firmament  of  his  con- 
sciousness, and  pointed  to  an  inquiry,  acquittal, 
and  reparation.  Half  unconsciously  he  felt  that 
this  would  be  salvation,  not  only  as  regarded  this 
accusation,  but  also  all  others. 

"Norby  is  one  of  those  men  of  whom  you  never 
can  make  anything,"  he  answered.  "It  is  quite 
possible  that  the  couple  of  thousand  now  in  ques- 
tion have  quite  robbed  him  of  his  wits." 

She  raised  her  eyes,  and  her  glance  said :  "Two 
thousand?  There  too!"  And  she  almost  imper- 
ceptibly shook  her  head. 

With  an  involuntary  anxiety  lest  she  should 
attach  too  much  importance  to  this  side  of  the 
question,  he  continued : 

"He's  a  great  idiot  anyhow ;  for  he  must  surely 
understand  that  as  there's  a  witness,  he  can't  get 
out  of  it." 

As  they  talked,  and  he  was  able  to  occupy  him- 
self with  his  innocence  in  the  matter,  his  tran- 
quillity of  mind  increased,  and  things  looked 
easier  and  brighter.  And  he  carried  her  along 
with  him.  She  had  quite  forgotten  to  ask  how  he 
had  got  on  in  town,  and  whether  he  could  save  her 
money.  An  event  had  taken  place  in  the  house 
which  swept  everything  else  into  the  background. 


50  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

"How  did  you  get  on  in  town  to-day?"  she 
asked  at  length. 

And  he  could  answer  frankly  now:  "Karen 
dear,  the  worst  is  about  your  money — "  He  could 
get  no  further,  his  voice  grew  husky.  Instead  of 
being  afraid  and  in  despair,  he  now  felt  so  cer- 
tain of  forgiveness  that  he  could  safely  be  dis- 
tressed. 

He  was  quite  right.  She  did  not  spring  up. 
She  did  not  call  him  to  account  for  all  his  false 
representations.  She  bowed  her  head;  she  still 
had  a  vision  of  the  bailiff  before  her  eyes,  and 
she  answered  with  a  sigh: 

"Well,  well — so  long  as  you  are  innocent  in 
this " 

"Don't  say  that,  Karen !"  he  said  with  tears  in 
his  eyes.  "I  feel  that  I  have  so  much  to  answer 
for  both  to  you  and " 

"Oh,  it  may  turn  out  all  right  in  the  end,"  she 
said,  her  face  turned  towards  the  lamp.  "So  long 
as  one  doesn't  lose  one's  honour." 

So  that  was  over.  He  had  not  this  confession 
to  dread  any  longer ;  but  he  had  never  dreamt  it 
would  have  been  got  through  so  easily. 

"What  is  it,  though?"  he  thought,  as  he  rose 
from  the  table.  He  felt  as  if  it  were  his  duty  to 
be  unhappy,  and  now  he  could  not.  He  kept  his 
eyes  all  the  time  fixed  upon  his  innocence  in  this 
one  matter,  and  this  feeling  of  innocence  was  like 
a  lamp  that  suddenly  shone  upon  his  darkness ;  it 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  51 

illuminated  everything,  softened  everything,  so 
that  the  remorse  and  despair  he  had  felt  in  the 
train,  all  that  had  chafed  and  wounded  him  earlier 
in  the  day,  melted  away  into  far-off ,  shapeless  mist. 

He  had  to  go  into  the  bedroom  to  look  at  the 
children,  and  he  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed 
in  which  the  two  little  girls  slept.  In  the  train 
he  had  felt  hS<-iself  unworthy  to  bring  children 
into  the  world,  but  now  he  was  once  more  happy 
in  being  a  father. 

"How  long  do  you  think  we  shall  be  able  to 
stay  here?"  she  asked,  when  he  came  in  again. 
"Do  you  think  we  shall  have  to  move  before  I  am 
laid  up?" 

It  sounded  so  unusually  resigned. 

"No,"  he  said;  "certainly  not." 

They  walked  through  the  rooms,  he  carrying 
the  lamp.  They  seemed  to  have  a  mutual  feel- 
ing that  it  would  soon  all  be  taken  from  them, 
and  they  be  left  homeless  and  empty-handed. 
They  paused  in  front  of  various  things — a  mir- 
ror, a  rug,  a  picture — and  looked  at  them,  his 
disengaged  arm  round  her  waist,  as  if  to  support 
her. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  with  a  little  sigh, 
"when  my  confinement  is  over  I'm  going  to  try  to 
do  without  a  servant." 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "there  will  be  no  sense  in  that." 

"Yes,  but,  Henry,  have  you  considered  what 
we're  going  to  live  upon?" 


52  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

He  recollected  a  vow  he  had  made  in  the  train, 
to  put  his  hand  to  any  sort  of  work,  if  only  she,  to 
whom  he  owed  so  much,  could  live  free  from  care. 
But  he  said  nothing  about  it  now.  This  feeling 
of  innocence  gave  him  an  involuntary  pride,  and 
he  contented  himself  with  saying: 

"Let's  hope  I  shall  yet  be  able  to  arrange  a 
composition."  <*O- 

He  drew  her  closer  to  him,  as  if  to  have  her 
with  him  in  this  faint  hope;  and  she  leaned 
against  him,  with  her  fair  head  resting  upon  his 
shoulder,  now  that  she  felt  sure  that  he  was  inno- 
cent of  this  crime,  before  which  everything  else 
dwindled  into  easily  surmountable  trifles. 

The  maid  was  out.  They  were  alone  in  the 
house,  and  the  stillness  made  them  talk  in  under- 
tones. She  grew  tired  of  standing,  and  sank  down 
upon  a  sofa;  and  he  seated  himself  beside  her, 
when  he  had  placed  the  lamp  upon  a  table 
close  by. 

They  sat  in  silence,  gazing  vacantly  at  the 
piano.  The  little  lamp  threw  a  pale  light  about 
them,  while  the  furniture  in  the  rest  of  the  room 
was  lost  in  the  darkness. 

"Father  came  while  the  bailiff  was  here,"  she 
said  at  last,  looking  straight  before  her. 

"How  did  he  take  it?" 

"Every  one  will  believe  you're  guilty,"  she  said. 
"And  Norby  is  powerful.  Father  is  coming  again 
to-morrow.  You'd  promised  to  bring  him  from 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  53 

town  the  last  ten  thousand  krones  he  got  for 
you." 

Wangen's  head  drooped.  'A  vision  of  her 
father,  with  his  white  hair  and  red,  watery  eyes, 
came  before  him.  What  should  he  say  to  the  old 
man  to-morrow,  now  that  everything  was  lost? 

"And  the  widow  from  Thorstad  has  been  here," 
she  went  on.  "You  had  promised  her  half  as  soon 
as  you  came  from  town." 

Wangen  still  stared  into  the  shadow  by  the 
piano.  He  was  afraid  she  would  ask  him  if  he 
had  the  money. 

"It  is  worst  for  the  working-men,"  she  con- 
tinued, "who  are  now  quite  destitute,  and  cannot 
get  credit  anywhere.  And  in  the  middle  of  win- 
ter too !"  She  was  on  the  verge  of  tears. 

Perhaps  they  too  would  be  coming  in  the  morn- 
ing to  ask  about  what  he  had  promised  them.  In 
the  half-darkness  Wangen  could  see  before  him  the 
old  man  with  the  red,  watery  eyes,  the  widow 
whose  fortune  he  had  wasted,  the  work-people — all 
of  them.  They  would  all  come  in  the  morning, 
and  call  him  to  account. 

He  turned  cold  at  the  thought,  and  the  same 
dark  accusation  he  had  brought  against  himself 
in  the  train  appeared  once  more,  while  he  felt  his 
clear  innocence  of  forgery  to  be  valueless ;  it  grew 
fainter,  like  a  lantern  on  the  point  of  going  out, 
leaving  him  in  a  darkness  where  the  crushing  sense 
of  responsibility  brought  him  to  despair,  where 


54  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

remorse  fastened  upon  him  with  innumerable 
hands,  and  where  he  must  eternally  and  inexorably 
remain  a  prisoner  and  be  tortured  with  the  pains 
of  hell. 

He  rose  suddenly.  "Let's  go  into  the  other 
room,"  he  said,  raising  his  shoulders;  "it's  so 
cold  here." 

In  the  dining-room  he  placed  the  lamp  on  the 
table,  and  stood  a  moment  gazing  at  it. 

"When  I  think  about  it,"  he  said  at  last,  "I 
can  after  all  understand  why  Norby  wants  to 
injure  me." 

"Can  you?"  she  said  eagerly. 

He  continued  to  stand  motionless  in  the  same 
position. 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "that  man  is  both  jealous  of 
his  honour  and  revengeful.  He  wasn't  made 
chairman  of  the  parish  last  time  either,  and  I 
expect  he  thinks  it's  my  fault." 

"Good  heavens !"  she  sighed. 

As  he  stood  there,  he  could  see  in  his  mind's 
eye  Norby  with  his  cherished  grudge,  sitting  in 
his  house  like  a  wicked  ogre,  ready  to  burst  with 
a  desire  for  revenge,  and  this  distorted  picture 
strengthened  Wangen's  feeling  of  innocence,  which 
now  seemed  like  a  kind  of  thread  upon  which  he 
hung,  and  which  must  not  break. 

He  heard  his  wife  say  good-night,  but  he  still 
stood  there.  When  at  last  he  went  into  the  bed- 
room, she  was  standing  half-undressed  in  front 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  55 

of  the  looking-glass,  doing  up  her  thick  hair  for 
the  night  in  a  long  plait. 

"And  what's  more,"  he  said  softly,  gazing  as  if 
at  a  dawning  salvation,  "I  understand  now  why 
Norby  managed  to  frustrate  the  intention  of 
building  the  church  of  brick.  The  brickfields,  do 
you  see,  shouldn't  make  anything  out  of  it. 
Norby  wanted  to  provide  the  timber." 

He  began  to  walk  up  and  down,  and  then 
stopped  again.  "And  now  I  understand  too,"  he 
went  on,  "how  it  is  that  so  many  customers  have 
left  me  lately.  The  brickfields  were  to  be  removed 
out  of  the  way  of  the  large  forest-owners  here." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  she  exclaimed,  turn- 
ing from  the  glass  and  looking  at  him,  half  in 
horror  that  people  could  be  so  wicked,  half  in 
gladness  that  the  decline  in  the  brickfields  busi- 
ness was  not  wholly  his  fault. 

The  wind  began  to  howl  in  the  great  factory 
chimneys.  A  door  up  in  the  loft  opened  and  shut 
with  a  bang  so  that  the  house  shook. 

"Oh,  would  you  mind?"  she  said.  "That  door 
has  been  banging  ever  since  the  girl  went  out,  but 
I  didn't  venture  on  the  stairs.  Will  you?" 

He  went,  and  on  coming  down  again  he  said: 

"And  this  normal  working-day — it  has  fright- 
ened the  rich  big-wigs  too.  Yes,  now  I  begin  to 
understand." 

And  each  time  he  exhumed  a  fresh  probability 
of  a  conspiracy  against  him,  it  lifted  a  fresh  bur- 


56  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

den  from  his  own  shoulders ;  so  he  dug  again  and 
again,  half  in  anxiety  that  he  should  not  be  able 
to  find  enough. 

While  Fru  Wangen  stood  in  her  night-dress  by 
the  bed,  winding  up  her  watch  for  the  night,  he 
came  and  laid  his  arm  round  her  shoulders,  and 
said  with  some  emotion : 

"So  now,  Karen,  it  can  be  explained  why  they 
have  begun  to  lose  confidence  in  me  in  town,  and 
I  am  hardly  likely  to  be  allowed  to  compound. 
The  rumour  of  a  crime  will  knock  that  on  the  head." 

"Poor  Henry !"  she  said,  and  hanging  her  watch 
in  its  place,  she  turned  and  threw  her  arms  about 
his  neck.  "I'm  afraid  I've  misjudged  you,  Henry ! 
Can  you  forgive  me?" 

He  was  touched,  and  folded  her  in  a  close  em- 
brace, feeling  as  he  did  so  the  warmth  of  her  body 
through  her  night-dress.  They  stood  thus  silent, 
her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  both  seeing  the  same 
persecution  and  injustice,  feeling  themselves 
united  in  the  same  innocence,  and  finding  warmth 
in  their  mutual  need  of  standing  together. 

And  now  when  he  thought  of  her  money,  it  no 
longer  seemed  to  be  his  fault;  the  blame  was 
transferred  to  those  in  whose  way  the  brick-kilns 
had  lain.  And  he  thought  of  her  old,  ruined 
father,  and  he  no  longer  dreaded  his  coming  in 
the  morning.  The  widow,  the  workmen's  fami- 
lies passed  before  his  mind's  eye,  but  they  no 
longer  accused  him.  He  felt  sympathy  for  them, 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  57 

and  indignation  on  their  account;  but  now  the 
indignation  was  turned  against  others,  not 
against  himself. 

"Aren't  you  coming  to  bed?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  wait  a  little!"  he  said,  still  standing  as 
before. 

"Yes,  but  I'm  getting  cold,  Henry." 

He  was  actually  afraid  of  letting  her  go,  as  if 
she  were  the  happy  conscience  he  had  now  built 
up,  which  felt  like  a  deliverance  from  something 
terrible. 

"I  think  I'll  go  out  for  a  little,"  he  said  at 
last.  "I  shan't  be  able  to  sleep  anyhow." 

"Don't  be  out  too  long!"  she  said.  "Remember 
I'm  lying  here  alone." 

Of  course  he  would  not  be  long.  But  she  was 
anxious  nevertheless ;  for  he  was  always  "only 
going  out  for  a  little"  when  it  ended  at  the  con- 
sul's, and  he  came  home  a  little  unsteady  in  his 
gait. 

Wangen  set  out  with  his  hands  deep  in  the 
pockets  of  his  coat.  The  hard  snow  creaked  be- 
neath his  feet,  and  above  the  snowy  hills  and 
dark  ridges  was  spread  a  wide,  brilliant,  starry 
sky. 

"Thank  goodness!"  thought  Wangen,  "that 
eight-hours  working-day  probably  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  failure."  And  he  involuntarily 
felt  as  if  a  lost  ideal  had  been  regained,  so  that 
he  had  a  beloved,  bright  idea  for  the  future  to 


58  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

believe  in.  From  this  his  thoughts  passed  insen- 
sibly to  Norby  and  the  other  rich  men,  who  sat 
brooding  over  their  money-bags,  suspicious  of 
everything  new,  fearful  of  everything,  averse  to  all 
improvement  of  the  condition  of  the  lower  classes. 

"They  managed  to  quash  it  this  time,"  he 
thought;  "but  there  will  be  a  next  time." 

He  walked  on  until  he  found  himself  outside  the 
consul's  house.  A  light  was  still  burning  in  the 
sitting-room.  A  good  impulse  took  him  by  the 
button-hole  and  said:  "Remember  your  vow  in 
the  train!"  But  there  are  times  when  we  feel 
ourselves  so  morally  well-to-do  that  we  think 
nothing  of  flinging  away  a  halfpenny.  Wangen 
must  have  some  one  to  talk  to  now,  and  he  would 
only  stay  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

"Why,  dear  me!  Aren't  you  arrested  yet?" 
said  the  consul,  who  was  sitting  in  his  dressing- 
gown,  stirring  a  freshly-made  toddy. 

And  they  sat  with  the  bottle  between  them,  and 
discussed  the  matter  very  thoroughly.  Wangen 
talked  himself  into  more  guesses,  suspected  more 
rich  men,  one  after  another,  of  being  in  the  con- 
spiracy, and  was  lavish  in  his  use  of  forcible 
expressions  about  them  all.  The  consul  encour- 
aged him  with  little  spiteful  remarks,  and  made 
numerous  mental  notes.  To-morrow  he  would  go 
for  a  walk. 

They  emptied  the  bottle  between  them,  and 
when  Wangen  went  home  a  little  after  midnight, 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  59 

he  stumbled  every  now  and  then  over  his  own  boots.   \ 

"Poor  consul!"  he  thought,  dreading  going 
home ;  "he  has  had  a  hard  lif e,  and  needs  a  little 
sympathy  and  appreciation." 

When  he  staggered  into  the  bedroom,  his  wife 
awoke  with  a  cry  of  terror. 

His  head  was  heavy  next  morning;  he  was 
ashamed  to  meet  his  wife,  and  again  began  to  dread 
meeting  those  who  were  to  come  to  him  that  day. 

By  clinging,  however,  to  his  innocence  in  the 
one  matter,  he  very  soon  succeeded  in  regaining 
his  self-confidence;  and  when,  later  in  the  day, 
he  had  to  go  to  the  station,  he  was  no  longer 
afraid  of  meeting  people.  He  began  to  entertain 
a  dim  idea  of  giving  a  lecture  to  the  workmen, 
and  explaining  to  them  the  true  cause  of  their 
common  ruin. 

As  he  went  homewards,  the  sun  was  shining 
upon  the  wide,  snow-covered  fields,  and  dazzled 
his  eyes.  There  stood  the  dead  factory-buildings 
with  their  tall  chimneys,  seeming  to  cry  to  heaven ; 
but  it  was  not  with  him  they  had  to  do.  Yester- 
day in  the  train  he  had  thought  that  his  own 
house  was  too  luxurious,  and  the  factory-build- 
ings too  large  and  expensive;  but  now  he  looked 
at  everything  with  different  eyes.  He  knew  in 
his  own  heart  that  he  had  built  these  works  in 
an  honest  belief  in  the  future  of  this  industry 
in  the  district;  and  a  banner  of  innocence  waved 
over  both  the  works  and  the  house. 


CHAPTER  VI 

DAY  after  day  passed,  and  Norby  had  not  yet 
recalled  his  declaration.  A  notice  of  the  forgery 
had  already  appeared  in  the  newspaper,  and  the 
more  the  story  spread  and  grew,  the  more  humili- 
ating it  seemed  to  Norby  it  would  be  to  retract ; 
and  the  longer  he  put  off,  the  more  the  dread  of 
humiliation  grew,  and  the  more  powerless  did  he 
feel  to  stoop  and  take  the  consequences. 

It  would  in  fact  be  deliberately  to  make  himself 
out  a  dishonourable  man.  Was  that  too  to  be  the 
thanks  he  got  for  having  in  his  kindness  of  heart 
helped  Wangen  ? 

His  enemies?  They  would  rejoice  as  long  as  he 
lived.  And  the  parish?  An  avalanche  of  ridicule 
would  descend  upon  him,  and  he  would  always  feel 
as  if  he  were  standing  in  the  pillory  to  be  the 
laughing-stock  of  every  one. 

In  Norby's  eyes  the  parish  was  something  of 
indefinite  size,  which  only  paid  attention  to  what 
he  did.  It  was  his  parish,  and  he  saw  it  espe- 
cially when  he  lay  with  closed  eyes.  The  woods 
and  farms  and  hills  and  rivers  were  the  same,  but 
the  people  were  of  two  kinds — those  who  praised 
him,  and  those  who  spoke  evil  of  him.  There  lived 
no  others  in  the  parish.  The  first  he  looked  upon 
as  honourable,  worthy  people,  the  second  as  his 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  61 

enemies  whom  he  should  certainly  not  forget. 
And  now?  He  was  quite  sure  that  now  people 
did  nothing  but  talk  about  this  affair.  Heads 
were  put  in  at  doors,  voices  called  across  back- 
yards :  Have  you  heard  it  ?  He  saw  people  bus- 
tling up  paths,  flying  off  on  ski,  writing  letters 
to  other  villages  and  towns :  Have  you  heard  it  ? 

And  if  he  now  gave  his  wife  away  to  this  same 
parish,  there  would  be  further  excitement ;  it  made 
him  angry  to  think  of  it. 

But  now  people  began  to  come  to  the  old  man 
and  talk  about  the  matter.  What  was  he  to  say? 
He  must  say  something.  At  first  he  tried  to  get 
away  from  the  subject,  but  afterwards  he  was 
afraid  that  he  might  have  betrayed  himself.  "I 
am  an  idiot,"  he  thought.  "It  won't  make  it  any 
worse  than  it  is  already  if  I  say  it  until  I  can 
find  a  way  out."  And  at  last  the  day  came  when 
he  said  it  in  so  many  words,  half  in  impatience  to 
be  left  alone. 

When  the  stranger  went  away,  the  old  man 
stood  at  the  window  looking  after  him  with  a  feel- 
ing similar  to  that  with  which  he  had  looked  after 
the  man  on  ski  that  day.  This  man  would  tell 
it  to  others.  He  had  said  something  that  he 
could  never  recall. 

He  felt  now  that  the  way  to  the  bailiff  was 
closed.  He  must  keep  it  up  for  the  present.  And 
henceforward,  every  time  he  repeated  the  bitter 
falsehood,  he  felt  bound  to  say  it  once  more  in 


62  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

order  to  make  it  consistent.  But  he  always  stood, 
as  it  were,  and  looked  after  this  dangerous  lie, 
which  branched  out  from  his  own  tongue,  wan- 
dered about  the  parish,  and  grew  every  day  like 
a  spectre  that  would  one  day  turn  against  him. 
And  yet  he  was  obliged  to  help  the  spectre  to 
grow  still  more,  for,  like  the  lion-tamer  who  dares 
not  turn  his  back  on  the  lion,  he  must  not  waver, 
must  not  show  fear,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done  but  to  stick  to  the  story. 

During  the  dark,  snow-laden,  winter  days,  the 
old  man  tramped  about  the  yard,  went  in  at  one 
outhouse  door,  came  out  of  another,  scolded  a 
little  here  and  there,  and  imagined  he  was  busy, 
which  he  was  not.  When  he  knew  he  was  not 
observed  he  would  stand  and  stare  at  his  boots, 
then  shake  his  head  and  say:  "If  it  only  hadn't 
been  Herlufsen !" 

But  there  sat  the  house  like  the  troll  with  its 
head  up  to  the  sky,  and  called  across  the  valley, 
jibing  and  mocking  as  it  always  did  when  Norby 
was  in  trouble:  "How  are  you,  Norby?  Do  you 
feel  bad?" 

"Poor  father !"  said  Ingeborg  to  her  mother  in 
the  kitchen.  "He  begins  to  look  so  pale  and 
wretched ;  he  can't  possibly  be  well." 

"No,"  said  her  mother;  "I  suppose  it's  this 
affair  that  is  telling  upon  him.  Of  course  it  can't 
be  very  pleasant,  but  it  isn't  our  fault.  Wangen 
has  himself  to  thank  for  it." 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  '6*3 

Ingeborg  became  doubly  zealous  in  her  atten- 
tions to  her  father  the  more  depressed  he  seemed 
to  be.  How  touched  she  was  at  his  taking  the 
matter  so  much  to  heart!  People  could  see  now 
how  good  her  father  was !  She  had  always  known 
that  he  was  the  best  man  in  the  world. 

But  how  frightened  the  poor  girl  was  the  day 
she  heard  that  Wangen  had  said  that  it  was 
Norby,  and  not  himself,  who  would  go  to  prison. 
Up  to  that  time  she  had  had  a  certain  amount 
of  sympathy  with  Wangen,  because  he  was  guilty ; 
but  now  he  became  a  dreadful  man  in  her  eyes. 
And  suppose  he  succeeded  in  bringing  trouble 
upon  her  father !  She  dared  not  mention  it  to  her 
mother,  and  as  there  was  no  one  to  whom  she 
could  confide  her  anxiety,  it  grew  larger  and 
larger,  and  began  to  keep  her  awake  at  night. 

It  was  now,  however,  that  she  sought  comfort 
of  God,  and  every  night  prayed  long,  fervent 
prayers;  but  she  knew  that  if  her  praters  were 
to  be  answered,  she  must  make^Tierself  worthy  to 
firay»  She  thought  too  that  as  she  succeeded  in 
overcoming  the  powers  of  evil  in  herself,  she 
noticed  that  her  prayers  seemed  to  receive  com- 
forting answers ;  and  little  by  little  she  began 
to  see  her  father  surrounded  by  the  powers  of 
goodness,  who  would  protect  him.  How  happy 
she  was!  Wangen  could  not  hurt  him  now;  he 
might  try  if  he  liked,  but  it  would  be  of  no 
use! 


64  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

From  that  day  the  weary,  sad  girl  began  to  go 
about  with  a  brighter  face  and  lighter  step,  as  if 
she  had  a  secret  joy  glowing  within  her. 

The  disagreement  between  Norby  and  his  wife 
was  over;  but  it  had  never  been  so  impossible  to 
tell  her  the  rights  of  the  case  as  it  was  now. 

One  day,  about  the  middle  of  the  week,  the  old 
man  drove  Laura  in  the  double  sledge  to  the  sta- 
tion, as  she  was  going  back  to  town  to  continue 
school.  It  was  a  frosty  day  with  cloudless  sky 
and  glittering  stretches  of  snow.  The  sledge- 
runners  creaked  upon  the  hard  snowy  road.  The 
old  man  sat  in  his  fur  coat,  and  glanced  now  and 
then  at  his  daughter.  He  had  never  seen  her  so 
pretty  as  she  was  to-day.  The  frost  had  put 
such  a  colour  into  her  young  cheeks,  and  made 
her  eyes  so  clear  and  blue;  and  the  oftener  she 
turned  those  eyes  upon  him  while  she  talked  and 
laughed  the  more  ashamed  did  he  feel  of  no  longer 
deserving  this  child's  confidence. 

"You  must  write  to  us  a  little  oftener  than  you 
generally  do,"  he  said,  looking  straight  before 
him  at  the  horse.  "We  should  like  to  know  if 
anything  happens  to  you." 

When  he  said  good-bye  at  the  station,  while  the 
engine  stood  snorting  preparatory  to  the  de- 
parture of  the  train,  he  had  a  great  desire  to  kiss 
her  on  the  forehead;  but  caresses  were  not  in 
Norby's  line,  and  he  contented  himself  with  slip- 
ping some  extra  money  into  her  hand. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  65 

"You  must  buy  something  with  that,"  he  said. 
That  was  the  kiss. 

When  he  drove  home  again  in  the  sledge,  he  felt 
as  though  he  were  alone  in  the  world.  And  who 
could  tell  what  evil  he  was  now  driving  towards, 
as  he  went  home  to  Norby? 

When  he  arrived  there,  Marit  met  him  at  the 
outer  door. 

"You've  actually  gone  and  forgotten  that 
declaration  again,"  she  said,  referring  to  a  writ- 
ten declaration  to  the  merchant  with  whom  Wan- 
gen  had  deposited  his  guarantee  document. 

"Where's  the  hurry?"  murmured  the  old  man 
as  he  took  off  his  fur  coat. 

"It's  been  lying  here  for  a  week  now,  and  yes- 
terday he  telephoned  to  ask  what  had  become 
of  it." 

Norby  went  slowly  into  his  office  where  the 
declaration  lay  written  out.  But  though  he  had 
now  spoken  about  Wangen's  forgery  to  all  sorts 
of  people,  it  was  quite  another  thing  to  have  to 
put  his  name  to  it. 

Marit  had  followed  him,  and  she  stood  waiting 
at  the  door. 

"Must  it  be  done  now?"  said  the  old  man, 
slowly  raising  his  eyes  to  hers  as  he  fumbled  for 
his  spectacle-case. 

"I  am  going  to  the  post-office,  and  I'll  take  it 
with  me." 

Marit    felt    herself    the    motive-power   in    this 


66  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

affair.  She  feared  that  behind  her  back  he  might 
be  prevailed  upon  to  pull  down  what  she  had 
built  up. 

He  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink,  but  then  paused 
and  sat  gazing  at  Johan  Sverdrup's  portrait. 

"It's  a  bad  business,  this,"  he  said,  with  his  eyes 
upon  the  portrait. 

"Yes!"  she  said,  shrugging  her  shoulders. 
"You  must  protect  yourself  and  your  belongings 
while  there's  law  and  justice  in  the  land." 

"Yes,  yes,"  sighed  the  old  man.  And  again  he 
saw  the  spectre  that  grew  and  grew,  and  would 
fall  down  upon  him  on  the  day  he  turned  round; 
and  slowly  he  signed  his  name,  Knut  O.  Norby. 

When  his  wife  had  left  the  house  he  was  once 
more  standing  and  looking  after  an  action  that 
was  set  in  motion  and  could  not  be  overtaken. 
The  thing  was  done  now;  he  had  put  his  name 
to  a  false  declaration.  The  name  Knut  O.  Norby 
would  henceforth  not  be  so  well  esteemed  as 
formerly. 

"No,  I  must  find  some  work  to  do,"  he  thought, 
shaking  himself.  "Perhaps  that'll  cheer  me  up." 

But  feeling  rather  tired,  for  he  had  not  slept 
much  the  night  before,  he  lay  down  upon  the 
leather  sofa  and  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment, 
feeling  as  though  he  should  not  be  able  to  get  up 
for  ever  so  long. 

What  made  him  uncomfortable  was  that  he 
now  always  had  a  vision  of  Wangen  before  him. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  67 

Ever  since  the  day  when  he  had  set  Wangen  in 
an  ugly  light  in  order  to  have  an  excuse  for  not 
going  to  the  bailiff,  the  man  seemed  burnt  into 
his  consciousness.  He  began  to  meet  him  every- 
where, and  to  see  him  in  every  one  he  talked  to. 
He  saw  him  now,  and  sprang  up  and  out,  har- 
nessed a  horse,  and  drove  to  the  forest  to  look  at 
the  timber-driving. 

He  heard  the  crash  of  the  logs  far  in  among 
the  hills,  and  was  not  long  in  getting  there.  Some 
great  trunks  had  been  driven  out  to  the  road,  and 
a  load  was  just  coming  to  the  top  of  the  steep  hill 
where  a  slide  had  been  cut  through  the  trees.  But 
what  was  that?  The  horse  sat  down  upon  its 
haunches,  and  down  the  long  steep  incline  went 
horse  and  load  hidden  in  a  cloud  of  snow.  This 
was  madness,  and  the  old  man's  anger  rose.  But 
when  the  load  reached  the  road  the  horse  was 
unhurt,  and  Norby  saw,  to  his  great  surprise,  that 
the  driver  was  Wangen. 

Norby  went  up  with  his  whip.  Words  failed 
him.  Then  Wangen,  beginning  to  unload,  said: 
"You're  trying  to  tax  me  with  a  forgery,  Norby, 
but  how  about  your  own  affairs?"  Norby  raised 
his  whip  and  would  have  struck  him,  but  another 
load  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  again 
the  horse  sat  down  upon  its  haunches  and  away 
it  went.  And  that  was  the  way  they  used  Norby's 
horses,  was  it?  He'd  give  them  a  lesson,  he  would ! 
But  when  the  driver  came  out  down  at  the  pile 


68  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

of  logs,  it  was  Wangen  again!  How  the  d ? 

And  now  he  unloaded  and  said  with  a  mocking 
smile:  "You're  trying  to  tax  me  with  forgery, 
Norby,  but — ha! — ha! — what  about  yourself?" 
Norby  again  raised  his  whip  and  would  have 
struck  him,  but  suddenly  caught  sight  of  another 
horse  at  the  top  of  the  hill.  It  was  the  young 
brood-mare,  and  it  would  injure  its  feet  in  the 
slide.  But  it  was  Wangen  again,  and  his  lips 
were  parted  with  the  same  smile:  "I  say,  Norby, 
have  you  a  good  conscience?  It's  true  the  wit- 
ness is  dead,  but  just  you  wait!"  And  then 
another  load  came,  and  another ;  the  hill  was  one 
cloud  of  snow  enveloping  a  string  of  loads,  and 
there  were  more  coming ;  and  Wangen  drove  every 
load,  always  that  cursed  Wangen ! 

The  old  man  cried  out  and  sprang  up  from  the 
sofa,  rubbing  his  eyes.  Thank  goodness ! 

"I  must  get  something  to  do,"  he  said,  and 
put  on  his  things  and  went  out.  It  was  too  late 
to  look  at  the  timber-felling  that  day.  He  saun- 
tered along  to  the  pig-stye;  but  the  twelve  fat, 
yellow  animals  that  had  hitherto  been  his  pride 
now  seemed  to  him  to  be  utter  failures.  "Things 
are  beginning  to  go  wrong  with  me,"  he  thought. 
"And  now  in  addition  I'm  to  have  this !  That's 
the  thanks  I  get  for  my  kindness!"  He  sighed, 
and  was  passing  on;  but  a  pig  put  its  snout  be- 
tween the  palings  and  wanted  to  be  scratched. 
The  old  man  stretched  out  his  hand,  but  suddenly 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  69 

drew   back    a   step,    for    this    pig   too    was 

A  shudder  ran  through  him,  and  he  hastened 
out,  and  from  a  kind  of  curiosity  he  also  went 
through  the  cow-shed.  The  cows  turned  in  their 
stalls  and  lowed  gently  one  after  another;  and 
he  gazed,  half  in  curiosity,  half  in  terror,  at  each 
head,  and  saw  that  the  first,  the  second,  the 
third — ugh,  what  did  it  mean !  He  turned  quickly 
and  fled.  He  was  beginning  to  see  that  hated  face 
in  innocent  animals  too.  He  slammed  the  heavy 
cow-shed  door  after  him,  and  the  lowing  of  two 
or  three  cows  at  the  same  moment  added  to  his 
feeling  of  uncanniness. 

"You  great  idiot!"  he  said  at  last  to  himself 
when  he  was  fairly  out.  "To  go  and  imagine 
things  like  that !"  He  was  going  in  the  direction 
of  the  stables,  but  turned  round  suddenly.  He 
did  not  dare. 

He  began  to  think  that  his  men  had  not  the 
respect  for  him  that  they  formerly  had,  and  he 
was  therefore  unusually  hot-tempered  with  them. 
When  he  was  driving  he  thought  that  the  horses 
did  not  go  so  willingly  either — as  if  they  had  a 
suspicion  too;  and  he  used  the  whip  more  than 
ever  before,  and  drove  recklessly.  It  was  at  any 
rate  no  mistake  that  his  good  dog  Hector  began 
to  look  timidly  at  him,  as  if  he  too  suspected 
something. 

"Don't  be  uneasy !"  he  said  to  himself,  "you've 
risen  in  the  esteem  of  your  fellow  creatures  at 


70 


any  rate."  The  fury  of  the  country-side  against 
Wangen  only  placed  Norby  in  a  better  light.  If 
one  man  took  Wangen's  part,  it  stirred  up  twenty 
to  range  themselves  on  Norby's  side;  and  as  the 
old  man  drove  along  in  his  single  sledge,  dressed 
in  his  fur  coat,  people  bowed  lower  than  before, 
and  those  who  had  hitherto  never  bowed  did  so 
now.  And  the  old  man  would  laugh  silently  to 
himself.  "The  beasts  despise  me  for  what  I  have  , 
Tdone,"  he  thought,  "but  men  respect  me.  Such/ 

life." 

"They  surely  can't  be  merely  making  fun  of 
me?"  he  thought  one  day.  "Suppose  they're  only 
showing  me  all  this  respect  in  mockery!"  The 
idea  was  unbearable,  and  he  felt  he  must  make 
sure  whether  it  were  so  or  not. 

One  day  the  people  at  the  parsonage  were 
surprised  to  see  Norby  drive  up  to  the  door,  and 
come  tramping  in  in  his  great  driving  boots. 
He  was  very  cheerful,  and  as  he  sat  leaning  for- 
ward and  stroking  his  knees,  he  told  them  that 
next  Saturday  he  and  his  wife  had  determined 
to  roast  a  pig  whole,  as  he  had  seen  it  done  in 
England,  and  if  any  one  cared  to  come  they  might 
get  a  bone  to  gnaw. 

Both  the  pastor  and  his  wife  began  to  laugh, 
for  Norby  always  gave  an  invitation  in  his  own 
peculiar  way.  And  the  old  man  thought :  "They 
can't  have  any  suspicion  of  me  when  they 
laugh  so  naturally;"  and  when  they  both 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  71 

accepted   his    invitation    he    felt    himself    secure. 

He  also  dropped  in  at  the  doctor's,  and  there 
things  went  just  as  smoothly.  And  he  was  at  the 
bailiff's,  the  judge's  and  the  sheriff's;  and  when 
he  finally  turned  his  face  homewards  he  sat  and 
chuckled. 

It  was,  as  usual,  a  capital  dinner  at  Norby. 
The  old  man  took  a  special  pleasure  in  being  able 
to  put  such  silver  and  wine  on  his  table  as  none 
of  the  other  magnates  could  produce.  Both  the 
pork  and  the  wine  raised  the  spirits  of  the  guests, 
and  the  old  man's  face  shone,  and  grew  redder 
and  brighter  the  more  he  ate  and  drank  and 
talked.  No  mention  was  made  of  the  great  matter 
itself;  but  as  Norby  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  and  drank  with  one  after  another  down  the 
rows,  or  with  all  together,  he  noted  in  each  glance 
and  smile  the  very  feeling  he  wished  to  see, 
namely:  "You're  a  jolly  good  fellow!" 

When  at  last  the  company  were  scattered  over 
the  two  large  drawing-rooms  with  their  coffee, 
the  bailiff  came  and  drew  him  a  little  aside;  and 
while  they  stood  with  their  cups  at  the  level  of 
their  chests  the  bailiff  told  him  in  a  whisper  that 
the  judge  had  received  the  guarantee  document. 
The  bailiff  had  seen  it,  and  he  must  say  that 
Norby's  signature  was  well  counterfeited.  But 
Jorgen  Haarstad's!  That  was  too  foolish! 
Haarstad  did  not  write  like  a  copy-book,  it  is 
true;  but  his  writing  was  not  so  crooked  and 


72  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

illegible  as  all  that,  that  the  bailiff  could  testify. 

"You  fool!"  thought  Norby,  and  drank  liqueur 
with  him.  "As  if  men  like  Haarstad  didn't  write 
their  name  in  a  dozen  different  ways.  You  are  a 
genius!"  But  aloud  he  said:  "Have  you  spoken 
to  Wangen?" 

The  bailiff  laughed.  "Indeed  I  have,"  he  said. 
"He  declares  that  the  signing  took  place  in  the 
cafe  at  the  Grand." 

"That's  not  true,"  thought  Norby ;  "it  was  at 
the  Hotel  Carl  Johan." 

The  bailiff  emptied  his  liqueur-glass  and  con- 
tinued: "But  it's  awkward  for  him  that  his  wit- 
ness is  dead,  and  that  there's  no  one  who  saw  you 
write  your  name.  And  it  gives  a  bad  impression, 
too,  to  hear  that  a  number  of  people  are  now 
getting  bills  from  his  general  store,  which  they 
have  paid  long  ago.  He's  a  shady  character." 

When  the  sound  of  the  last  sledge-bells  passed 
from  the  yard  a  little  over  midnight,  Norby  began 
to  walk  about  the  empty  rooms,  rubbing  his 
hands,  for  he  knew  now  for  certain  that  people 
esteemed  him  as  the  old  Knut  Norby. 

"But  in  the  Grand  cafe?  That's  a  downright 
lie.  I've  never  in  my  life  put  my  name  to  any 
paper  there.  What  a  confounded  liar  he  is !" 

The  consciousness  that  at  any  rate  a  fraction 
of  this  matter  was  a  lie,  now  felt  like  a  relief. 
No  one  in  the  world  could  prove  that  he  had  ever 
signed  anything  at  the  Grand. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  78 

"But  I  shall  win  the  whole  thing.  I  can  be 
quite  easy  about  that."  And  then  a  little  later: 
"But  shall  I  win?" 

He  sank  down  at  a  table  in  the  little  room  lead- 
ing off  one  of  the  drawing-rooms,  on  which  stood 
a  bottle  of  liqueur.  When  Marit  came  to  get  him 
to  go  to  bed  she  was  very  much  astonished  to 
find  him  intoxicated,  and  she  could  not  get  him 
to  move.  An  hour  later  she  went  with  a  candle 
in  her  hand  through  the  dark  rooms  where  the 
tobacco-smoke  still  hung  in  light  clouds.  There 
was  a  light  behind  the  curtains  in  the  doorway. 
She  peeped  cautiously  in,  and  saw  that  the  old 
man  had  sunk  back  on  to  the  sofa,  and  was  asleep 
with  his  glass  in  his  hand. 


CHAPTER  VII 

DOWN  by  the  fjord  lay  a  little  one-storeyed 
house,  half  hidden  by  large  trees  within  a  garden. 
Here  lived  Fru  Thora  Skard,  the  widow  of  the 
inspector  of  forests.  Upon  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band she  had  withdrawn  from  the  social  life  to 
which  she  was  accustomed,  and  henceforth  lived 
quietly  behind  her  flowers  in  her  pretty  little 
rooms.  On  rare  occasions  she  might  be  seen 
going  out  to  some  sick  or  poor  person  with  a 
book  and  a  basket.  Although  she  was  more  than 
forty,  she  was  still  young  in  mind;  it  was  she 
who  had  started  the  young  people's  club  in  the 
parish.  Any  young  peasant  girl  who  wished  it, 
was  certain  of  obtaining  from  her  free  instruction 
in  sewing  and  weaving.  She  had  a  little  boy 
called  Gunnar.  Being  a  sincere  admirer  of  every- 
thing national,  she  had  her  little  house,  after  her 
husband's  death,  renamed  and  registered  as 
"Lidarende";  and  from  that  time  forward  she 
liked  to  be  called  Thora  of  Lidarende. 

When  she  heard  the  news  about  Wangen  she 
thought :  "Poor  wife !  Poor  children !"  She  knew 
Fru  Wangen  very  well,  and  she  was  so  upset  about 
this,  that  she  could  think  of  nothing  else. 
Although  she  had  only  a  small  pension,  and  was 
trying  moreover  to  put  something  by  for  Gun- 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  75 

nar,  her  kind  heart  said  over  and  over  again: 
"I  must  go  and  help  them.  Three  children,  the 
parents  destitute,  and  then  this  crime!  It  would 
be  wrong  of  me  not  to  go." 

There  were  such  different  opinions  about  Wan- 
gen's  guilt  and  innocence.  Fru  Thora  was  suf- 
ficiently well  acquainted  with  her  fellow  creatures 
to  know  that  most  of  them  believed  Wangen  to 
be  guilty  because  he  had  already  gone  down  in  the 
world.  She  wanted  to  form  her  own  opinion 
about  the  matter,  uninfluenced  by  others,  and 
therefore  meditated  deeply  upon  the  matter,  rea- 
soning from  her  knowledge  of  the  two  men.  For 
one  of  them  must  be  in  the  wrong. 

It  happened  that  Norby  realised  in  himself  and 
his  belongings  some  of  the  ideals  that  Fru  Thora 
of  Lidarende  cherished.  She  had  always  thought 
there  was  something  particularly  Norwegian 
about  Norby.  The  broad,  strongly -built  farmer, 
living  in  his  large  house  and  ruling  over  his 
labourers,  was  like  a  direct  descendant  of  the  old 
kings.  In  the  store-house  at  Norby  she  knew 
there  lay  a  quantity  of  old  harness,  drinking- 
bowls,  sledges,  and  carved  household  articles,  and 
she  had  speculated  as  to  how  to  get  hold  of  them 
for  a  country  museum.  Without  her  noticing  it, 
or  being  able  to  prevent  it,  the  impression  from 
these  things  entered  into  her  valuation  of  Norby 
in  this  particular  case.  And  Wangen?  He  was 
the  son  of  that  magistrate  who  was  noted  for  his 


76  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

animosity  towards  the  peasant,  and  yet  was  not 
too  refined  himself  to  misappropriate  public 
money;  and  now,  whenever  Fru  Thora  thought 
of  the  son,  it  was  as  though  the  atmosphere  of 
the  father  surrounded  him.  Norby  and  Wangen 
opposing  one  another?  Could  there  be  any  doubt 
in  such  a  case? 

It  was  thus  that  Thora  of  Lidarende's  opinion 
on  this  matter  was  formed,  and  when  once  it  was 
there,  she  felt  no  doubt  at  all  about  the  matter, 
omitting  to  inquire  into  the  origin  of  the  opinion. 

She  did  not,  however,  grow  to  dislike  or  scorn 
Wangen  on  account  of  this  crime.  On  the  con- 
trary she  felt  it  was  just  now  he  was  to  be  pitied, 
just  now  he  needed  help.  "You  must  not  shirk 
your  duty,"  her  kind  heart  said  to  her  every  day ; 
and  she  had  no  peace  until  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  offer  to  take  one  of  the  children. 

She  wanted,  moreover,  to  set  the  parish  an 
example  in  not  condemning  too  severely  one  who 
had  given  way  to  temptation ;  and  on  the  day 
when  she  fought  her  way  in  a  snow-storm  along 
the  fjord  to  call  on  Fru  Wangen,  she  felt  light- 
hearted,  notwithstanding  the  cold  and  wind,  in 
the  thought  that  even  this  sad  affair  could  afford 
her  an  opportunity  of  doing  good. 

When  she  reached  the  Wangens'  house,  she  was 
told  by  the  maid  that  her  mistress  had  been  con- 
fined; but  as  this  was  the  fifth  day,  Fru  Thora 
was  allowed  to  go  in  to  her. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  77 

Fru  Thora  could  scarcely  restrain  her  tears  at 
sight  of  this  unfortunate  woman,  who  had  thrown 
herself  away  upon  such  a  man ;  and  when  she  bent 
over  the  bed,  and  Fru  Wangen  threw  her  arms 
about  her  neck,  they  both  sobbed  aloud. 

They  talked  together  for  a  long  time  before 
Fru  Thora  broached  the  subject  of  her  errand; 
but  although  she  chose  her  words  carefully,  Fru 
Wangen  seemed  offended,  and  curtly  declined  her 
offer.  And  when  Fru  Thora  went  away  she  had 
an  unhappy  feeling  of  having  done  something 
utterly  wrong. 

When  she  was  gone,  Wangen  went  in  to  his 
wife,  and  when  he  had  heard  Fru  Thora's  errand, 
stood  silent  with  a  peculiar  smile  upon  his  face. 

"Oh,  indeed !"  he  said  at  last.  "They're  begin- 
ning to  want  to  take  our  children  from  us  too 
now,  are  they?" 

"But  Henry,  don't  you  really  think  she  meant 
it  kindly?" 

He  laughed.  "Yes,  of  course !  Why,  they  mean 
everything  kindly." 

A  little  while  after  he  said:  "I  suppose  they 
understand  that  as  long  as  I  have  my  family 
about  me  I  have  a  kind  of  backbone.  But,"  he 
continued,  going  up  to  the  window,  "that  she 
too " 

He  stood  watching  the  energetic  little  woman 
struggling  down  the  road  against  a  wind  that 
almost  blew  her  away.  He  could  really  see  now 


78  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

that  her  errand  had  been  one  of  which  she  was 
ashamed. 

But  she  had  come  to  the  house  trying  to  coax 
his  wife  to  give  up  the  child  when  he  was  not  there, 
and  when  the  mother  lay  helpless  in  bed.  He 
suddenly  clenched  his  hands  in  fierce  anger  as  he 
looked  after  her.  How  she  struggled  against  the 
wind!  How  her  shawl  fluttered!  A  shiver  ran 
down  his  back  as  it  struck  him  that  she  resembled 
a  bat,  and  he  thought  of  witches. 

"Henry!"  came  from  the  bed.  And  when  he 
turned,  his  wife  stretched  out  her  arms  towards 
him. 

He  bent  down,  and  when  he  felt  her  arms  about 
his  neck,  sank  upon  his  knees.  "Henry!"  she 
said,  stroking  the  back  of  his  head;  "Henry! 
You  mustn't  think  that  any  of  us  will  forsake 
you!" 

He  could  not  answer,  but  took  her  head  between 
his  hands  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"Poor  Henry!"  she  said  again.  "I  never 
thought  people  could  be  so  unkind." 

When  at  last  he  rose,  he  said  in  a  kind  of 
exalted  indignation :  "I'll  pay  them  out  for  this !" 


CHAPTER  VIH 

MADS  HEELUFSEN  in  the  meantime  sat  for  hours 
together  looking  across  at  Norby.  In  his  eyes 
Norby  Farm  was  a  kind  of  fox's  den  away  there 
under  the  fir-clad  slope,  upon  which  he  must  keep 
watch  to  see  what  Reynard  was  doing. 

At  the  approach  of  crises  in  forest  prices,  and 
of  political  elections,  it  was  always  against  Norby 
that  Mads  Herlufsen  directed  his  moves.  When 
he  won  he  slapped  his  thigh  and  was  in  good 
spirits  for  more  than  a  week.  If  Norby  were  suc- 
cessful he  was  as  ashamed  as  if  he  had  done  some- 
thing wrong  himself.  But  although  these  two 
little  kings  thought  of  nothing  but  doing  one 
another  harm,  at  the  same  time  they  were  good 
friends  when  they  met.  They  warred  upon  one 
another  chiefly  because  there  was  no  other  worthy 
opponent  within  a  wide  area. 

Mads  Herlufsen  now  sat  pursing  up  his  mouth, 
looking  across  at  Norby  and  wondering.  "What 
does  he  mean  by  this?"  he  thought;  for  he  was 
always  accustomed  to  think  this  when  Norby  did 
anything.  "It  certainly  isn't  that  he  wants  to 
quarrel  with  Wangen,  nor  is  it  for  the  sake 
of  the  money.  There  must  be  something  be- 
hind." 

At  last  he  discovered  that  Norby  wanted  to  get 


80  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

Wangen  punished  in  order  to  frustrate  his  com- 
position, and  thus  force  the  brickfields  under  the 
hammer.  It  was  the  brickfields  that  Reynard 
wanted  to  get  hold  of  this  time. 

For  a  little  time  Mads  Herlufsen  sat  rubbing 
his  nose  in  disappointment  at  not  being  able  to 
think  of  a  counter-move.  He  did  not  care  in  the 
least  whether  Wangen  were  guilty  or  not;  his 
only  care  was  for  Norby. 

"Do  I  want  the  brickfields?  Bless  me,  no! 
But  why  should  Norby  have  them?" 

At  last  a  thought  struck  him.  One  of  his  farm 
labourers,  Soren  Kvikne,  had  once  been  in  the 
employment  of  the  deceased  witness,  Jorgen  Haar- 
stad.  Wangen  had  no  witnesses  now  that 
Haarstad  was  dead.  Suppose  Soren  Kvikne  could 
be  utilised! 

He  remembered  what  an  honest  man  Soren 
Kvikne  had  always  been,  so  he  took  out  a  bottle 
of  brandy,  and  sent  over  to  the  men's  quarters 
for  him,  for  the  men  were  in  at  dinner. 

It  was  not  a  customary  thing  for  the  men  to  be 
called  into  the  sitting-room  of  the  farm;  and 
when  Soren  Kvikne  went  in,  he  looked  about  cau- 
tiously to  see  where  he  should  sit,  and  scarcely 
dared  to  seat  himself  upon  the  beautiful  chair. 

But  Herlufsen  gave  him  a  long  pipe  to  smoke, 
and  placed  him  on  the  sofa  opposite  himself,  and 
after  filling  his  glass  two  or  three  times,  said 
to  him: 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  81 

"Weren't  you  once  in  the  employment  of  Haar- 
stad,  Soren?" 

Soren  Kvikne  fingered  his  thin  beard,  and  gazed 
in  front  of  him  with  a  melancholy  stare.  Oh  yes ! 
He  was,  he  answered. 

"You  can't  remember,  I  suppose,  whether  Haar- 
stad  ever  mentioned  anything  about  having  signed 
his  name  as  a  witness  for  Wangen  and 
Norby?" 

Soren  Kvikne  shook  his  head.  He  could  not 
remember  it  at  all. 

"Well,  well,"  said  Herlufsen,  "you  must  think  a 
little,  Soren." 

Soren  thought  a  little — but  no! — no! 

"For  it's  possible  that  the  whole  thing  may 
depend  upon  you,"  said  Herlufsen. 

The  man  looked  askance  at  his  master;  but 
Herlufsen  was  perfectly  serious,  and  when  he 
went  away,  told  him  to  remember  that  the  whole 
matter  now  depended  upon  him. 

When  Soren  Kvikne  came  back  to  the  men's 
room,  he  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  asked 
in  a  loud  voice  whether  any  of  the  others  had  ever 
been  in  the  farm  parlour  and  drunk  a  dram  and 
smoked  a  long  pipe  with  the  master. 

At  this  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter,  whereupon 
Soren  grew  angry,  and  let  them  know  that  the 
whole  matter  between  Wangen  and  Norby  now 
depended  upon  him. 

"Upon    you?"    exclaimed    several   voices;    and 


some,  who  were  reclining  on  the  benches,  sat  up 
and  looked  curiously  at  him. 

"Yes,  upon  me,"  said  Soren,  nodding  his  head. 
But  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  got  out  of 
him;  he  was  not  a  man  to  let  his  tongue  run 
away  with  him. 

From  that  day  he  had  no  peace  either  day  or 
night.  Whenever  he  met  his  master,  he  was  urged 
on  with:  "Haven't  you  considered  that  matter 
yet?"  It  was  quite  true  he  had  been  in  Haar- 
stad's  service  five  years,  and  it  was  quite  true  that 
Haarstad  and  he  had  often  talked  together  alone ; 
but —  but —  He  scratched  his  ear  a  great  many 
times  a  day.  He  talked  to  his  wife  about  the 
matter,  and  his  wife  too  said  he  must  think  a 
little.  He  thought  both  day  and  night,  since  the 
whole  matter  now  depended  upon  him. 

It  couldn't  be  that  time  Haarstad  and  he — no, 
no,  it  wasn't  then.  No,  if  it  was  any  time,  then — 
then  it  must  have  been  when  they  were  painting 
the  cariole  together.  Haarstad  was  painting  the 
shafts,  and  he  was  doing  the  wheels  and  the  body. 
They  were  standing  in  the  sun  behind  the  barn. 
And  this  scene,  in  which  they  painted  the  cariole, 
fastened  itself  little  by  little  in  Soren's  mind,  until 
he  gradually  became  certain  that  if  there  posi- 
tively was  a  time  when  Haarstad  confided  the 
matter  to  him,  it  must  have  been  then ;  and  when 
he  came  to  think  of  it,  it  certainly  was  on  that 
occasion. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  83 

When  he  told  Herlufsen  one  day  that  he  had 
thought  the  matter  over,  he  could  not  understand 
why  his  master  became  so  exceedingly  affable. 
Herlufsen  told  him  he  might  take  a  holiday  for 
the  rest  of  the  day.  He  might  go  down  to 
Wangen  and  ask  to  be  called  as  a  witness. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  inquiry  was  now  approaching,  and  the  nearer 
it  came,  the  more  uneasy  did  Norby  become.  He 
had  found  no  way  out  of  his  difficulty  yet,  and  he 
began  to  fear  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  find 
one.  Whichever  way  he  turned,  he  ran  against  his 
own  assertions;  and  these  assertions,  which  now 
lived  in  people's  minds  and  travelled  by  post  and 
railway,  had  grown  into  a  power,  greater  than 
Norby  himself ;  they  were  like  a  son  grown  beyond 
the  control  of  his  father;  they  dragged  him  on 
continually,  they  compelled  him  with  threats  to 
stand  on  their  side  in  this  matter. 

He  would  not  go  to  an  inquiry,  however,  for 
then  he  would  have  to  take  his  oath;  and  he  was 
not  so  far  gone  yet  as  to  go  there  and  perjure 
himself. 

"I'm  beginning  to  feel  my  rheumatism  again," 
he  said  to  his  wife,  when  he  was  restless  at  night. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  there  was  a  suspicious 
stillness  over  the  country-side,  in  spite  of  what 
he  had  done — a  stillness  as  if  some  one  were  lying 
in  wait.  He  himself  had  no  desire  to  talk  of  any- 
thing but  this  one  matter;  for  he  thought  of 
nothing  else,  and  was  only  easy  in  his  mind  when 
others  listened  to  what  he  said,  and  had  no  time, 
as  it  were,  to  think  for  themselves. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  85 

f  But  each  new  falsehood  always  cost  another  as 
V^  its  proof,  and  that  in  its  turn  another.  He  had 
to  keep  a  constant  watch  upon  himself,  lest  his 
tongue  should  run  away  with  him ;  he  was  afraid 
of  perhaps  letting  something  out  in  his  sleep,  and 
hardly  dared  sleep. 

But  day  by  day  the  inquiry  drew  nearer,  and 
he  involuntarily  began  to  grope  about  for  a  means 
of  pulling  through  after  all,  if  in  spite  of  every- 
thing it  should  come  to  an  inquiry. 

But  what  he  now  had  to  get  ready  to  say  at 
the  bar  would  be  falsehoods  again;  and  at  this 
Norby  stopped  like  a  horse  that  will  not  ven- 
ture upon  an  unsafe  bridge.  He  pushed  back- 
wards; he  was  afraid;  he  was  not  accustomed 
to  it. 

/'No  one  is  so  much  in  the  humour  for  philoso- 
(^phising  as  he  who  is  suffering  in  secret.  As  he 
cannot  talk  upon  the  subject  he  would  most  pre- 
fer, he  chooses  something  similar.  One  day,  when 
Norby  heard  of  the  sudden  death  of  an  acquaint- 
ance of  his  in  another  part  of  the  parish,  a  cold 
shiver  ran  through  him  as  an  inward  voice  whis- 
pered: "You  will  be  the  next,  Norby." 

That  evening,  when  he  and  his  wife  were  in 
bed  and  the  light  was  out,  he  yawned  heavily,  and 
said  in  a  tired  voice : 

"Isn't  it  a  strange  thing  that  we  human  beings, 
who  may  die  at  any  moment,  should  pass  all  our 
\  time  in  doing  evil  to  others?" 


86  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

Marit  sighed  and  smoothed  out  the  sheet  over 
the  counterpane. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "it  is." 

"And  when  we  look  into  our  own  hearts,  we  see 
that  even  those  who  go  wrong  and  commit  crime 
need  not  be  any  worse  than  one  of  us." 

After  a  brief  pause  Marit  answered :  "No,  not 
if  they  repent ;  there  is  pardon  for  them  too,  then, 
I  suppose." 

It  was  very  quiet  during  the  pauses  in  their 
conversation.  The  winter  night  was  dark  and 
cold,  and  now  and  again  the  wind  was  heard  whis- 
tling past  the  corner  like  a  dying  howl. 

In  this  feeling  of  death  and  the  dark  night, 
Norby  again  saw  the  parish — his  parish ;  but  this 
time  all  the  people  were  alike,  they  were  all  ready 
to  die,  all  cold,  pale,  suffering  beings,  such  as  one 
ought  to  be  good  to. 

"Do  you  know  what  I'm  thinking  about, 
Marit?" 

"No,"  came  the  rather  sleepy  answer. 

"Why,  that  if  we  do  something  downright  bad 
'it's  not  at  all  certain  that  the  consequences  will , 
be  obliterated  if  we  die.     It's  very  likely  they  go 
on  living  and  doing  harm  to  others  for  a  long/ 
time." 

"H'm!" 

"But  can  you  tell  me  then  how  such  a  man  can 
have  peace  in  his  grave?" 

Marit  expressed  her  opinion  that  our  intelli- 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  87 

gence  was  not  sufficient  for  that,  and  turned  over 
on  the  other  side. 

The  old  man  lay  long,  however,  seeing  a  long 
string  of  Wangen's  descendants  having  to  suffer 
for  this.  Could  he  then  at  the  same  time  be  saved 
and  sit  in  heaven?  He  lay  there  looking  and 
looking,  until  he  grew  hot  with  anxiety  lest  he 
should  not  get  any  sleep  that  night  either.  He 
began  to  be  sure  that  he  had  some  disease  or  other, 
perhaps  heart-disease.  And  then,  while  he  stood 
in  the  witness-box  and  held  up  his  fingers,  it  would 
come.  He  would  drop  down. 

"O  God,  be  merciful  to  my  soul!" 

At  last  he  sat  up  in  bed  and  quietly  struck  a 
match.  Heaven  help  us!  It  was  past  two 
already,  and  he  had  not  slept  yet. 

When  he  once  more  tried  to  go  to  sleep,  he 
began  to  see  how  difficult  it  is  honestly  and  fairly 
to  put  right  a  wrong  done. 

He  lay  with  closed  eyes  and  saw  it  all. 

"If  I  wanted  to  make  it  all  straight  again,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "neither  getting  forgiveness  from 
God  nor  taking  my  punishment  in  a  prison  would 
help,  for  my  wicked  accusation  would  still  live 
somewhere.  But  if  I  could  find  out  all  the  ways 
it  had  gone,  and  follow  all  the  threads  to  the  end, 
should  I  be  finished  then?  No.  I  should  have  to 
give  compensation  for  the  evil  consequences.  One 
will  have  forgotten  the  falsehood,  another  will 
fcave  laughed  at  it,  but  a  third  will  remember  it 


88  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

and  make  Wangen  suffer  for  it.  But  suppose  I 
could  make  up  for  this  too?  Would  that  be  the 
end  of  it?  No.  There  would  still  be  need  to 
pay  for  what  he  suffered  all  the  time  people 
believed  him  guilty.  Can  that  be  paid  for  ?  No ! 
No!"  And  he  involuntarily  shook  his  head  as  he 
lay  with  closed  eyes.  How  was  he  to  get  to  sleep  ? 

The  next  day  he  roused  himself  and  went  up  to 
Gudbrandsdal  where  he  owned  large  forests,  and 
where  his  men  were  driving  timber.  He  felt  that 
he  must  get  away — he  must  forget. 

Up  there  he  was  not  a  rich  man  dressed  in  furs. 
He  was  in  a  frieze  suit,  and  went  on  ski  through 
the  forest;  and  the  exercise  and  the  fresh  air  did 
him  good.  He  saw  immense  piles  of  timber,  and 
it  was  his;  he  stopped  now  and  again  to  look 
out  over  endless  stretches  of  tufted  fir-trees, 
sprinkled  with  snow  and  gilded  by  the  sun,  and 
they  were  his. 

"If  Wangen  had  even  been  a  worthy  antag- 
onist," he  thought,  as  he  leant  upon  his  ski-si&ff 
and  surveyed  his  wealth.  "If  it  had  been  Her- 
lufsen  now."  But  this  man  was  down  in  the  world, 
and  did  not  own  so  much  as  the  spoon  he  ate  with. 
"And  it's  that  poor  wretch  you  want  to  injure!" 
he  said  to  himself.  "And  not  even  using  honour- 
able means ;  for  you're  attacking  him  in  the  rear 
— attacking  a  dead  man  in  the  rear!"  He  felt 
inclined  to  thrash  himself. 

When  he  got  home  he  had  caught  cold  and  was 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  89 

a  little  feverish  in  the  night.  He  himself  thought 
it  might  be  typhoid  fever,  and  that  he  would  die; 
and  he  was  tortured  by  the  thought  of  the  evil 
action  that  would  live  after  him. 

At  last  one  morning  he  felt  he  could  bear  it  no 
longer,  and  determined  to  get  rid  of  the  whole 
thing — first  go  to  his  wife  and  tell  her  the  truth, 
and  then  go  to  the  bailiff  and  make  things  right 
with  him.  Now  it  was  settled,  thank  goodness ! 

But  just  as  he  was  getting  out  of  bed,  Marit 
called  from  the  door  that  there  was  some  one 
downstairs  who  had  been  waiting  for  him  for  ever 
so  long. 

"That's  sure  to  be  the  bailiff,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, turning  cold  at  the  thought.  But  when  he 
came  down  he  found  it  was  an  old  farm  labourer, 
Lars  Kleven,  who  wanted  to  speak  to  him. 

"Come  into  the  office!"  said  Norby. 

He  was  vexed  that  it  was  only  this  old  man  who 
had  frightened  him  and  made  him  hasten  his 
dressing. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked,  sitting  down 
before  his  writing-table. 

To  his  great  astonishment  the  old  man  came 
close  up  to  him  and  seated  himself  so  that  he  could 
look  Norby  straight  in  the  face. 

"It's  a  hard  task  I  have  to-day,"  began  the  old 
man. 

"Indeed?"  said  Norby  impatiently. 

"I've  come  to   ask  you,   sir" — he   stopped  to 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 


cough — "whether  you've  laid  this  matter  with 
Wangen  before  the  Lord." 

Norby  stared.  He  leant  back  in  his  chair  and 
stared  still  more ;  and  wretched  as  he  felt,  he  could 
not  help  bursting  out  laughing.  He  thought,  as 
he  had  so  often  done,  that  it  was  his  father  who 
sat  there  listening  to  this.  And  to  think  that  one 
of  his  small  tenants,  an  old  clod,  whom  he  kept 
alive  up  on  the  hill  out  of  kindness,  that  he  should 
come  here  and  want  to  interfere  in  a  matter  that 
concerned  only  himself  and  Providence !  No,  that 
was  too  much !  And  Norby  laughed.  It  was  like 
an  avalanche  falling,  and  he  shouted  and  could 
not  stop,  until  the  floor  shook  under  him.  Finally 
he  did  not  know  whether  to  give  this  poor  fellow 
a  krone,  or  kick  him  out  of  the  room. 

"And  what  then?"  he  at  last  managed  to  ask, 
trying  to  be  serious. 

The  old  cottager  placed  his  hands  upon  his  stick 
which  he  held  between  his  knees,  and  continued 
calmly : 

"I  want  to  rest  quiet  in  my  coffin ;  but  I'd  rather 
not  go  and  witness  against  you,  sir." 

"What?"  said  Norby,  involuntarily  drawing 
nearer.  "Has  any  one  asked  you  to  do  so  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  cottager. 

"Is  Wangen  allowing  you  tobacco  on  credit?" 

"It's  God  Almighty  who's  asked  me." 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  Norby  cleared  his 
throat,  and  asked: 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  91 

"And  what  have  you  got  to  witness  about,  eh?" 

"I  went  to  town  with  you  that  time,  sir." 

"When?'' 

"The  time  you  signed  that  paper,"  said  the  old 
man. 

Norby  grasped  the  arms  of  his  chair  and 
pressed  his  lips  together,  and  the  two  men  looked 
at  one  another.  At  last  Norby  cleared  his  throat 
again. 

"You're  in  your  second  childhood,"  he  said. 
"You'd  better  get  home  and  go  to  bed."  He  rose 
and  turned  towards  the  window,  but  then  seemed 
to  recollect  something  fresh,  and  looked  again  at 
the  cottager. 

"And  by-the-bye,  if  you  appear  at  £he  inquiry 
I  shall  have  you  declared  irresponsible.  Now  go !" 

"Good-bye !"  said  the  other  gently  as  he  moved 
towards  the  door.  "I  only  wanted  to  lie  quiet  in 
my  coffin,"  he  said  once  more,  and  then  went 
quietly  out. 

Norby  remained  standing  at  the  window  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets.  It  had  done  him  good 
to  be  able  to  laugh  for  once ;  but  it  was  still  bet- 
ter to  be  able  to  be  angry  with  some  one  besides 
one's  self. 

They'd  better  just  come  and  interfere  in  mat- 
ters that  concerned  only  himself  and  God 
Almighty!  If  they  did,  he  was  still  man  enough 
to  show  them  the  door.  They'd  better  begin 
suspecting  that  he  was  not  happy!  If  they  did, 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 


he  would  be  man  enough  to  show  them  something 
else.  It  would  not  be  that  poor  old  fellow  at  any 
rate  who  would  make  him  break  down.  There 
would  be  no  confession  to-day.  Some  way  out 
of  the  difficulty  could  still  be  found. 

While  he  was  sitting  at  supper  that  evening, 
Marit  said  with  a  little  laugh:  "Do  you  know 
that  the  widow  down  at  Lidarende  has  started 
helping  Wangen?" 

"No."  But  it  was  a  piece  of  news  that  stung, 
and  he  thought  of  that  active  woman  with  the 
bright  face  that  usually  smiled  at  him;  but  sud- 
denly her  face  seemed  to  become  grave,  to  turn 
away  from  him  towards  Wangen. 

It  would  be  a  nice  thing  indeed  if  they  began 
to  doubt  Wangen's  guilt  in  the  parish.  If  they 
one  and  all  continued  to  believe  in  it,  so  that 
Norby  could  be  at  peace  with  God  Almighty,  he 
might  still  make  his  confession.  But  he  would 
have  peace.  They  must  not  think  they  could  take 
him  by  force. 

Something  healthy  within  him  seemed  to  begin 
to  growl  and  rise  in  opposition  whenever  any  one 
irritated  him.  He  could  not  get  this  woman,  who 
was  on  her  way  to  Wangen  to  help  him,  out  of 
his  head.  The  master  of  the  parish  school,  who 
had  defeated  Norby  in  the  school  committee,  was 
a  friend  of  hers.  The  fool!  Norby  soon  saw 
him  accompanying  her  in  order  to  join  Wan- 
gen, and  at  night,  when  he  lay  in  bed,  he  saw  yet 


others  leaving  him  to  go  over  to  the  adversary. 

"Just  see  if  my  enemies  don't  make  this  an 
opportunity  of  injuring  me!"  he  thought,  and  the 
anger  that  this  roused  made  him  still  stronger. 
What  a  relief  it  was  to  be  able  to  turn  his  eyes 
away  from  himself,  and  instead  occupy  his 
thoughts  with  what  was  possibly  taking  place  in 
the  parish!  He  wouldn't  wonder  if  his  enemies 
utilised  the  opportunity. 

One  day  he  heard  that  his  old  enemy,  Lawyer 
Basting,  was  going  to  defend  Wangen,  and  that 
he  was  not  only  going  to  insist  upon  an  acquittal, 
but  claim  enormous  damages.  Wangen,  more- 
over, had  found  witnesses  who  would  prove  that 
for  a  long  time  Norby  had  done  all  he  could  to 
injure  his  business. 

Norby  began  to  laugh,  and  then  sprang  up  and 
began  to  bustle  about  with  his  thumb  hooked  into 
the  armhole  of  his  waistcoat.  After  a  time  he 
stopped  and  drew  a  long  breath  as  if  of  relief. 

"No,  really,  Marit!  The  wolf's  beginning  to 
howl  now.  Basting!  So  that  hedge-lawyer  has 
at  last  got  a  case,  has  he?  Ha,  ha!  And  then 

these  lies  about  my  having No,  this  is  really 

too  much,  Marit!" 

"Isn't  that  just  what  I  said?"  said  Marit. 

From  that  day  forward  the  parish  was  always 
in  Knut  Norby's  mind,  that  parish  which  he  saw 
best  when  he  closed  his  eyes.  All  that  every  one 
now  did  was  to  walk  along  roads  and  sit  in  rooms 


94.  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

and  gather  together  and  take  sides  in  this  mat- 
ter. He  guessed  more  and  more  who  were  gather- 
ing against  him.  He  would  perhaps  be  left  quite 
alone  at  last;  and  they  would  make  use  of  this 
in  order  to  do  for  him  entirely.  Mind  and  health 
grew  stronger  and  stronger  in  Knut  Norby.  It 
was  too  bad  of  Christian  people  to  go  and  wit- 
ness falsely  against  him.  He  had  never  wanted 
to  injure  Wangen's  business,  never! 

He  was  in  bed  one  morning  when  Marit  came 
and  told  him  about  Soren  Kvikne,  who  had  been 
in  service  with  Haarstad.  He  sprang  up,  and 
began  to  look  for  his  slippers,  and  said,  laughing : 

"By  Jove,  Marit,  Mads  Herlufsen  has  had  his 
finger  in  that  pie!" 

This  eased  him  of  his  last  burden.  It  was  not 
hard  on  Wangen  any  longer  now,  for  he  had  so 
many  powerful  friends,  and  besides  he  was  circu- 
lating falsehoods.  It  now  became  as  it  were  a 
matter  between  Norby  and  Herlufsen.  Norby  had 
at  last  found  a  worthy  opponent. 

There  came  fresh  rumours.  Wangen  had  as- 
serted that  Norby  had  cheated  him  in  a  timber 
transaction;  then  that  he  had  defrauded  the 
widow  whose  trustee  he  was.  In  his  righteous 
indignation,  Wangen  did  not  weigh  his  words  very 
carefully,  and  they  all  came  to  Norby  as  poison- 
ous, irritating  stings,  exciting  the  old  man  by 
their  positive  untruth,  and  helping  him  more  and 
more  to  forget  the  original  matter,  and  instead 


THE  POWER  OP  A  LIE  95 

to  look  upon  himself  as  attacked,  persecuted,  and 
compelled  to  defend  himself. 

But  the  indignation  he  now  felt  only  produced 
a  growing  improvement  in  his  health,  and  he 
began  in  real  earnest  to  prepare  for  the  inquiry 
with  moves  and  counter-moves.  It  was  no  longer 
a  question  of  who  was  in  the  right,  but  of  who 
would  lose.  It  was  no  longer  a  matter  between 
him  and  God  Almighty,  but  between  him  and  his 
enemies.  Every  time  he  heard  of  new  witnesses 
appearing  upon  his  opponent's  side,  his  anxiety 
lest  he  should  fail  increased;  and  this  urged  him 
on  incessantly  to  think  of  ways  of  being  even 
with  these  men.  "We  shall  see  if  they  succeed!" 
he  said  to  himself  with  clenched  teeth.  He  recol- 
lected now  the  evil  that  many  of  these  witnesses 
had  done  to  him  in  days  gone  by.  They  were  like 
old  wounds,  that  opened  and  added  their  pain  to 
that  of  the  fresh  ones.  He  became  more  and  more 
angry ;  he  no  longer  thought,  but  only  looked 
about  for  weapons  with  which  to  strike. 

The  strange  thing  was  that  Norby  began  to 
be  at  peace  in  his  inmost  soul.  The  wound  in  the 
innermost  recesses  of  his  heart  was  forgotten,  and 
he  thought  only  of  those  that  grazed  the  skin ; 
so  he  began  to  sleep  better,  regained  his  appetite, 
and  was  in  good  spirits.  He  had  a  good  con- 
science such  as  a  man  may  have  who,  being  inno- 
cent on  twenty  charges,  forgets  that  he  is  guilty 
on  the  twenty-first.  When  he  thought  of  all  the 


96  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

twenty,  he,  as  it  were,  told  God  Almighty  that 
they  balanced. 

There  was  no  longer  an  impressive  stillness 
round  about  him.  There  was  a  noise.  He  went 
on  with  his  preparations,  went  to  his  lawyer  in 
Christiania,  always  recollecting  new  false  accusa- 
tions and  writing  them  down,  letting  himself  be 
wounded  by  them  in  order  to  feel  thoroughly  how 
innocent  he  was.  If  there  came  moments  when  all 
was  quiet  about  him,  he  went  on  expecting  new 
false  accusations.  He  wanted  them.  If  none 
came,  he  made  some  up  without  noticing  that  he 
did  so.  "Of  course  they  say  now  that  I  disown 
this  signature  out  of  avarice.  I!  Or  because 
I  am  afraid  of  my  wife.  Knut  Norby  afraid  of 
his  wife !"  It  irritated  him  that  people  could  say 
such  things,  and  he  made  up  new  charges  one 
after  another,  without  noticing  that  they  were 
made  up.  They  were  like  glasses  of  spirits,  which 
always  kept  him  in  a  hazy  condition,  always 
buoyed  him  up,  always  made  him  forget  what  he 
most  desired  to  forget,  always  gave  him  a  feeling 
of  innocence  and  of  being  in  the  right. 

The  inquiry  was  now  close  at  hand,  and  the 
old  man  drove  about  the  country-side  and  col- 
lected counter  evidence.  He  was  quite  ready  for 
the  inquiry  now. 


PART  II 
CHAPTER  I 

IN  a  room  in  a  Christiania  boarding-house  a 
young  man  was  sitting  with  his  elbows  on  the 
table  and  his  head  in  his  hands.  In  front  of  him 
lay  a  large  open  book,  with  certain  passages 
underlined  with  red ;  but  he  was  not  reading.  It 
was  Einar  Norby,  Knut's  only  surviving  son ;  and 
he  was  a  student  of  philology,  and  was  reading 
for  his  final  examination. 

The  window  was  open  to  the  warm  March  sun, 
but  now  he  rose,  and  went  to  shut  it,  as  the  noise 
from  the  street  disturbed  his  thoughts.  He  began 
to  pace  up  and  down  the  floor,  now  and  then  pass- 
ing his  hand  across  his  forehead  with  a  pained 
movement.  "What  shall  I  do  about  this?"  he 
thought.  "For  things  have  taken  a  different 
aspect  now." 

He  was  a  tall,  slim,  fair  young  man  of  about 
five-and-twenty.  His  not  yet  having  taken  his 
degree  was  not  owing  to  laziness.  He  had  first 
studied  theology  for  a  couple  of  years;  but  one 
day  he  had  gone  home  and  had  appeared  before 
his  father  in  his  office  to  say  privately  that  he 
could  not  go  on  with  it  any  longer,  that  his 
conscience  would  not  let  him  be  a  priest. 


98  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

His  father  sat  gnawing  the  end  of  his  pipe, 
and  when  he  had  listened  to  his  son's  explanation, 
said: 

"Well,  well,  you're  quite  right,  my  boy,  to  give 
it  up  if  you  are  so  sure  of  what  you're  doing. 
It'll  be  worse  for  your  mother;  but  I  must  try 
and  talk  to  her."  So  Einar  went  abroad  to  travel 
for  a  year  and  look  about  him,  and  on  his  return 
he  had  taken  up  philology. 

A  week  earlier  he  had  heard  in  a  letter  from 
his  mother  of  Wangen's  forgery,  and  it  had  at 
once  excited  his  greatest  astonishment,  for  he 
remembered  with  perfect  distinctness  how  one  day 
three  or  four  years  ago  his  father  had  come  up 
to  him  and  said:  "Wangen's  got  the  better  of 
me  nicely  to-day!"  And  then  he  had  told  him 
about  the  guarantee,  but  begged  him  not  to  tell 
any  one,  not  even  his  mother.  This  had  surprised 
him  at  the  time,  and  perhaps  it  was  for  that  very 
reason  that  he  remembered  it  so  distinctly. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  he  asked  himself  over  and 
over  again.  It  was  possible  there  was  some  mis- 
understanding, but  he  nevertheless  thought  it  best 
to  write  to  his  father  about  it. 

He  had  had  an  answer  to-day.  The  old  man 
wrote  that  Einar  was  talking  nonsense.  He  had 
never  had  anything  to  do  with  Wangen. 

"Is  it  nonsense!"  thought  Einar  as  he  paced 
his  room.  His  father  wrote  quite  confidently  that 
it  was  all  nonsense;  but  Einar  took  heaven  to 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  99 

witness  that  it  was  not.  The  more  he  thought 
about  it,  the  more  certain  he  was  that  he  remem- 
bered accurately. 

"But  what  shall  I  do?"  he  said  again;  for  he 
felt  that  he  could  not  at  once  give  in  about  it. 
"Suppose  Wangen  is  innocent  and  I  am  the  only 
person  who  can  save  him.  Mother  wrote  too  that 
Wangen  had  no  witnesses.  What  shall  I  do?" 

The  inquiry  was  to  take  place  in  a  few  days,  so 
he  could  not  put  off  acting  any  longer. 

"And  father  writes  that  he  has  never  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  Wangen ;  so  it  cannot  refer  to 
some  other  matter  than  the  one  I  remember.  Is 
it  possible  that  father  is  so  forgetful,  or ?" 

Certain  of  his  father's  ways  in  business  matters 
had  often  jarred  upon  Einar.  But  this?  No! 

"But  suppose  that  Wangen  is  punished  for  what 
he  is  innocent  of?  Could  I  ever  be  happy  again?" 

He  threw  himself  upon  the  sofa  and  covered  his 
eyes  with  his  hand.  Supposing  he  went  home  and 
put  things  to  his  father  ?  What  a  row  there  would 
be !  And  if  his  father  had  really  embarked  upon 
something  wrong,  he  supposed  it  was  too  late  now 
to  turn  back,  at  any  rate  from  the  old  man's 
point  of  view. 

"But  what  am  I  to  do?  Shall  I  not  do  any- 
thing at  all?" 

The  thought  of  what  it  would  involve,  namely, 
his  going  before  the  court  and  giving  evidence 
against  his  father,  made  him  dizzy.  But  if  he 


100  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

were  to  interfere  at  all  in  the  matter,  he  must  be 
prepared  for  all  that  it  involved.  On  the  one 
side  stood  his  father,  and  on  the  other  the  im- 
pulse to  do  what  was  right ;  and  he  heard  a  mock- 
ing voice  within  him  say:  "There,  now  you  can 
see  how  easy  it  is  to  rise  above  family  considera- 
tions !  What  if  it  had  been  some  one  else  and  not 
your  father?" 

Einar  Norby  had  often  been  guilty  of  judging 
harshly,  especially  in  the  case  of  public  men.  He 
belonged  to  the  generation  of  young  men  who, 
through  bitter  disappointments,  have  conceived  a 
deep  suspicion  both  of  the  ideas  and  of  the  men 
who  had  once  aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  their  early 
youth. 

While  he  lay  upon  the  sofa  with  his  hand  over 
his  eyes,  the  mocking  voice  within  him  went  on: 
"Now  you  must  show  what  one  ought  to  do.  Be 
sure  you  don't  show  any  family  considerations; 
don't  be  a  party  to  any  corruption,  like  public 
men!  Do  what  is  right!  How  you  have  been 
applauded  in  the  Students'  Club  when  you  have 
spoken  of  public  men  who  float  about  on  vague 
sentiments,  and  whose  conscience  is  kept  entirely 
by  relations  and  friends.  You  once  said  that  their 
meaning  well  was  no  defence ;  for  they  made  their 
judgment  drunk  with  sentiments  that  did  not  con- 
cern them,  and  thought  they  were  honest,  like  the 
drunkard  who  believes  that  he  alone  is  sober. 
Take  care !  Don't  be  a  coward !  Be  sure  you  do 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  101 

what  is  right !  It  cannot  be  such  a  dreadful  thing 
to  come  forward  and  give  evidence  against  your 
father  when  you  are  in  the  right!" 

It  seemed  to  take  him  by  the  throat.  There 
appeared  to  be  no  choice  between  the  two  things, 
either  to  be  a  coward,  or  to  go  home  and  bring 
unhappiness  upon  all  thoes  he  loved. 

At  moments  such  as  these,  when  a  momentous 
decision  has  to  be  made,  perhaps  at  great  cost, 
there  are  always  certain  voices  that  lull  and 
weaken.  "You  are  a  fool!"  they  said.  "What  in 
the  world  do  you  want  to  meddle  with  that  matter 
for?  Your  father  has  one  son  living,  and  that  son 
now  wants  to  get  his  father  sent  to  prison.  Do 
you  know  anything  about  the  matter?  You  talk 
a  lot  of  twaddle  about  remembering  this,  that, 
and  the  other ;  but  what  about  your  father  ?  Do 
you  suppose  he  doesn't  remember  what  he  did? 
Does  he  generally  act  like  a  scoundrel?  In  any 
case,  stick  to  your  last !  Leave  to  the  courts  of  jus- 
tice that  which  belongs  to  them,  and  see  if  you  really 
can  manage  to  be  ready  for  your  examination!" 

This  relieved  him  for  a  time,  but  when  he  rose 
and  began  to  walk  up  and  down,  he  once  more 
saw  the  funny,  white-bearded  mask  that  some- 
where in  his  inner  consciousness  began  to  grin. 
"Of  course  not,  don't  have  anything  to  do  with  it ! 
You  might  risk  something  this  time,  for  this  time 
it  affects  yourself,  your  own  people.  But  talk  in 
a  loud  voice  when  it's  about  persons  that  you  don't 


102  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

know!  Declaim  then,  and  bring  tears  into  peo- 
ple's eyes ;  but  now  ?  Be  silent !  Sneak  off !  Hide 
yourself!  And  start  again  to-morrow,  when  you 
take  aim  at  some  poor  person  who  doesn't  belong 
to  you!  Be  one  of  those  champions  of  truth  for 
whom  you  have  always  shown  such  contempt!" 

He  grew  more  and  more  agitated.  He  sat  down 
and  passed  his  hand  again  and  again  across  his 
brow,  then  started  up  once  more  and  paced  the 
floor,  with  his  head  in  a  whirl.  He  had  scarcely 
slept  all  night  owing  to  the  same  thoughts. 

"I  must  come  to  a  decision!  There  are  only 
two  days  left!  And  if  I  sneak  out  of  it  now,  it 
will  not  exactly  be  a  heroic  deed,  and  ever  after 
I  shall  have  to  keep  quiet  when  anything  is  said 
about  justice  and  truth." 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  There  was  a  train 
in  a  couple  of  hours.  But  just  as  he  was  about 
to  get  out  his  bag  and  pack  it,  he  was  once  more 
seized  with  uncertainty.  Suppose  his  father  would 
not  be  persuaded?  "What  should  I  do  then!  I 
ought  to  have  some  plan  of  what  I  am  going  to 
do,  if  I  am  going  to  interfere." 

He  seemed  to  see  his  father,  and  Norby  Farm 
in  the  summer,  waving  cornfields,  and  the  calm 
waters  of  Lake  Mjosen.  Go  and  give  evidence? 
Break  with  them  all?  Bring  unhappiness  upon 
them?  Never  more  have  a  home  at  Norby?  He 
sank  upon  a  chair  and  sighed  heavily.  "No,  I 
can't  do  it!" 


CHAPTER  H 

THE  parsonage  was  not  far  from  Norby  Farm. 
The  day  before  the  inquiry  Pastor  Borring  began 
to  wonder  whether  he  could  not  bring  about  some 
reasonable  agreement  in  this  wicked  and  foolish 
case  between  two  honest  men. 

No  one  knew  that  Pastor  Borring  had  a  secret 
trouble  that  caused  him  continual  suffering.  He 
believed  neither  in  the  atonement  nor  in  the  utility 
of  the  sacraments ;  and  yet  as  pastor  he  had  to 
say  and  do  what  was  pure  and  true.  He  felt 
that  he  was  too  old  to  resign  his  living  and  start 
again  in  life;  and  with  his  present  good  stipend, 
he  could  help  on  his  numerous  children  in  the 
world. 

But  this  faithlessness  to  his  convictions  had 
made  a  very  good  man  of  Pastor  Borring.  He 
knew  himself  sufficiently  well  to  judge  others  leni- 
ently. He  took  no  interest  in  gossip,  for  he 
thought  that  the  evil  that  could  be  said  about 
others  was  not  nearly  so  bad  as  that  which  could 
be  said  about  himself.  Many  came  to  him  with 
their  troubles,  and  it  was  easy  for  him  to  comfort 
them,  because  their  misfortunes  seemed  to  him 
small  in  comparison  with  his  own.  People  thought 
him  a  good  pastor  and  a  noble  man ;  and  perhaps 
he  was  both  of  these,  because  he  was  always  burn- 
ing with  a  secret  despair. 


104  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

"I'm  going  a  drive  to-day,"  he  said  to  his  wife. 

"Is  any  one  ill?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"Out  at  the  brickfields,"  said  the  pastor. 

Enveloped  in  his  grey  ulster,  with  a  red  scarf 
round  his  waist,  he  seated  himself  in  the  sledge, 
and  the  little  bay  fjord  horse  set  off  in  its  usual 
trot. 

It  was  a  sad  sight  that  met  him  out  at  the  red 
factory -buildings  where  there  was  no  smoke 
ascending  from  the  chimneys,  and  the  shop  stood 
with  locked  doors  and  shuttered  windows.  "Poor 
man!"  thought  the  pastor.  "If  he  is  guilty,  all 
this  trouble  is  too  great  for  him  to  bear;  and  if 
he  is  innocent,  this  will  be  the  worst  evidence 
against  him.  He  must  be  encouraged." 

Wangen  still  lived  in  his  pretty  house,  and 
after  taking  off  his  coat  in  the  cheerful  hall,  the 
pastor  went  into  the  drawing-room.  A  servant 
was  occupied  in  dusting,  and  she  went  at  once  to 
tell  Wangen. 

Tick!  tick!  went  a  little  clock  in  its  polished 
case  on  the  wall.  There  was  a  sound  of  children 
crying  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  Wangen's  voice 
hushing  them. 

The  door  opened  and  Wangen  entered.  He  had 
grown  very  thin,  his  eyes  wore  an  expression  of 
suffering,  and  he  was  almost  unrecognisable. 

"Our  little  baby  died  last  night,"  he  said,  when 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  105 

he  had  seated  himself.  "It  was  undoubtedly  be- 
cause of  his  mother's  milk.  She  has  had  too  much 
to  bear  lately." 

"He  means  by  that  that  Norby  is  to  blame  for 
this  too,"  thought  the  pastor.  "It  is  high  time  I 
talked  to  him.  Dear  Wangen,"  he  said  aloud, 
"will  you  do  an  old  pastor  a  favour?  Will  you 
get  up  on  my  sledge,  and  drive  over  with  me  to 
Norby?" 

Wangen  started  up  involuntarily,  and  put  his 
hand  to  his  head.  "To  Norby  ?"  he  said  in  aston- 
ishment. 

"Yes.  We'll  try  and  put  an  end  to  this  mat- 
ter, dear  Wangen." 

Wangen  smiled  and  his  eyes  began  to  glow. 
"He's  afraid  at  last,  is  he?"  he  said.  "And  so 
he  sends  you." 

The  pastor  shook  his  head.  "I've  come  on  my 
own  account,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "Let  me  tell 
you  that  it  is  easiest  for  the  innocent  one  to  for- 
give. Show  this  now.  Come  with  me  to  Norby, 
and  there  I'll  say:  'Knut,  I  want  to  talk  to  you 
a  little,  and  Wangen  is  going  to  hear  what  I  say.' 
Then  we  three'll  go  into  a  room  by  ourselves,  and 
I  shall  say:  'You  two,  who  want  to  send  one 
another  to  prison,  you're  both  guilty.  Shake 
hands!  Sign  a  declaration  that  henceforward 
neither  of  you  will  ever  mention  the  matter  again' ; 
and  when  we  go  into  the  other  room,  I  shall  say 
to  the  others:  'There  won't  be  any  inquiry;  for 


106  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

Wangen  and  Norby  think  that  this  has  nothing 
to  do  with  either  the  authorities  or  any  one  else; 
they  have  arranged  the  matter  between  them- 
selves.' In  a  couple  of  days,  people  will  have  found 
something  else  to  talk  about,  and  in  a  month's 
time  the  whole  thing  will  be  forgotten.  Now  put 
on  your  things,  Wangen,  and  come  with  me!" 

But  instead  of  this,  Wangen  sat  down,  and 
smiled  a  little  uncertainly. 

"And  who  is  to  pay  the  two  thousand  krones 
that  Norby  is  responsible  for?"  he  asked. 

The  pastor  was  a  little  perplexed.  He  had  not 
thought  of  that,  and  involuntarily  he  stroked  his 
nose  with  his  thumb  and  forefinger. 

"We-ell — But  dear  me!  Peace  between  people 
is  worth  more  than  two  thousand,  especially  when 
it's  a  case  of  going  to  prison.  I'll  say  to  Norby — 
let  me  see — I'll  say :  'If  you  haven't  given  security 
for  Wangen  before,  then  do  it  now!  Pay  this! 
You'll  never  miss  it!'  I'm  sure  my  friend  Norby 
will  be  reasonable." 

But  Wangen  started  up  again. 

"No,"  he  cried,  "not  for  the  world!  Shall  I 
beg  him  for  the  help  that  he's  given  once,  but 
backed  out  of?  Good  heavens,  no!  No!  Do  you 
really  think,  Pastor  Borring,  that  when  first 
Norby  has  ruined  me,  then  dishonoured  me,  then 
driven  my  wife  to  the  verge  of  madness,  I  am 
going  to  Norby  to  ask  him  to  be  friends?  No! 
That  would  be  a  little  too  much!" 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  lo? 

"I  don't  know  who  is  guilty,"  said  the  pastor 
sadly.     "Let  the  guilty  one  settle  the  matter  with  ) 
God." 

Wangen  laughed  scornfully.  "That  sounds 
very  nice,  Hr.  Borring,  but  what  have  we  got  law 
and  justice  for?  You  should  feel  what  it  is  like 
to  be  in  my  place.  I  spent  my  wife's  and  my  own 
fortune  in  creating  an  industry  here,  and  it  suc- 
ceeded as  long  as  it  wasn't  in  Norby's  way.  He 
has  traduced  me  until  I  was  refused  credit;  he 
has  managed  to  prevent  my  compounding ;  and  it 
is  not  even  enough  for  him  to  know  that  I  am 
destitute!  No,  I'm  not  to  keep  my  good  name 
either;  I'm  to  go  to  prison  too.  And  you  want 
me  to  forget  all  this  ?  If  Norby  were  to  come  here 
himself  and  ask  me — but  it's  too  late  for  that  too 
now." 

The  pastor  sat  for  a  while  with  his  lips  com- 
pressed. 

"Tell  me,  Wangen !  Have  you  never  caused  suf- 
fering to  any  one  else  in  this  world?"  he  said. 

The  question  startled  Wangen,  and  he  again 
forced  a  laugh. 

"All  I  know  is,"  he  said  after  a  short  pause, 
"that  I'm  innocent  in  this  instance.  And  Norby 
has  now  tortured  and  worried  me  so  long  that  he 
shall  go  to  the  prison  that  he  intended  for  me. 
If  he  is  so  rich  too  he  shall  be  made  to  pay.  I 
won't  take  a  small  compensation." 

"Ah!  it's  all  very  well  suffering  when  you  get 


108  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

paid  for  it,"  thought  the  pastor.     "That  man  is 
the  guilty  one."     Aloud  he  said:  "God  help  us  \ 
I  that  we  find  it  so  difficult  to  forgive  one  another !  | 
I  And  yet  we  expect  Him  to  be  always  ready  to  for- ' 
\  give  us." 

"Do  you  think  we  shouldn't  have  courts  of  law 

to  help  us  to  obtain  justice,  Hr.  Borring?" 

/~  ".Judicial  procedings  of  that  kind,  dear  Wan- 

j    gen,  are  a  bad  means  of  bringing  right  to  light. 

They  may  perhaps  get  hold  of  the  fruit  but  never 

Nof  the  root.     Just  you  notice  when  the  witnesses 

stand  forward.    They  lie  without  knowing  it ;  they 

raise  a  dust,  and  the  court  passes  judgment  from 

the  dust.     It  is  human;   but  God  deliver  us  both 

from  the  sentence  and  its  consequences !" 

All  this  time  Wangen  was  in  the  belief  that  the 
pastor  had  been  sent  by  Norby,  and  that  he 
wanted  to  entice  him  with  fair  words.  He  had 
therefore  become  impatient  and  wished  to  put  an 
end  to  the  interview.  He  rose  with  an  impetuous 
movement,  and  began  to  pace  the  floor. 

"The  only  thing  I'm  afraid  of,"  he  said  demon- 
stratively— for  he  was  quite  willing  that  Norby 
should  hear  this — "is  that  he'll  get  off  too  easily. 
After  thinking  it  over,  I  don't  think  he  ought  to 
come  out  of  prison  any  more." 

The  pastor  felt  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow,  and 
rose  quickly.  "If  he  is  in  the  right,"  he  thought, 
"then  Heaven  help  the  right  that  has  fallen  into 
such  hands!  Can  being  in  the  right  make  a 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  109 

man  so  coarse  and  bad?     No!     He  is  guilty!" 
He   sighed  and   took   his  leave   despondently. 
Wangen  went  to  the  door  with  him,  and  on  the 
steps  remarked: 

"This  is  much  more  than  a  question  between 
Norby  and  me.  It  most  concerns  the  working- 
men,  who  are  left  without  bread.  It  is  a  social 
question." 

"Indeed?"  said  the  pastor,  seating  himself  in 
his  sledge,  and  gathering  up  the  reins,  thinking 

as  he  did  so:  "Of  course!     If  a  man  only  has 
S"  .  .      . 

f  toothache  nowadays,  he  tries  to  make  it  into  a 

'  social  question.  People  are  too  cowardly  to  bear 
*w  anything  alone.** 

"Yes,"  continued  Wangen,  "I  don't  stand  so 
much  alone  now,  thank  goodness,  as  Norby 
thinks." 

"Then  he's  not  so  much  to  be  pitied  after  all," 
thought  the  pastor,  adding  aloud:  "Yes,  I  hear 
you've  started  a  new  working-men's  union,  and 
that  you've  often  given  lectures  there  lately.** 

"Yes,"  answered  Wangen;  "a  man  must  be 
blind  if  he  doesn't  see  that  Norby  has  a  number 
of  rich  men  behind  him,  and  that  the  end  and  aim 
of  this  matter  is  to  do  away  with  the  eight-hours 
working  day  in  this  part  of  the  country.** 

The  pastor  smiled  and  said  good-bye,  and 
cracked  his  whip  over  the  bay. 

"That  was  a  very  unsuccessful  visit,"  thought 
the  p.aator,  and  sighed.  "People  are  only  amena- 


110  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

ble  to  reason  when  they  are  dying ;  and  even  then 
it  is  in  order  to  gain  something." 

Wangen  had  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  and 
stood  at  the  window  watching  the  pastor  as  he 
drove  away.  He  could  not  at  once  regain  his 
mental  equilibrium,  for,  in  spite  of  everything,  the 
old  man  had  left  a  good  impression  upon  him, 
although  at  the  same  time  this  was  something  he 
was  unwilling  to  acknowledge;  for  it  might  dis- 
turb the  calculation  respecting  man's  wickedness, 
to  which  Wangen  daily  added  fresh  amounts, 
thereby  strengthening  his  righteous  anger. 

"How  strange  it  is,"  he  thought  with  some 
agitation,  "that  the  priests  always  play  into  the 
hands  of  the  rich!"  The  thought  had  half  un- 
consciously been  admitted,  in  order  to  get  rid  of 
the  good  impression.  "And  they  try  with  texts 
and  solemn  faces  to  make  the  poor  man  give  up 
his  right.  I  dare  say!" 

As  he  stood  and  followed  the  pastor's  sledge 
with  his  eyes,  he  gradually  let  loose  a  whole  series 
of  such  reflections,  and  little  by  little  felt  the  irri- 
tation that  made  him  believe  in  what  he  said ;  and 
little  by  little  the  old  pastor  driving  along  the 
road  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  theological  messenger 
in  the  service  of  wealth,  like  so  many  other  priests 
in  this  world. 

"Has  there  ever  been  an  affair  too  rotten  for 
some  priest  or  other  to  lend  himself,  his  God,  and 
his  church  in  defence  of  it?  Look  at  war,  for 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  111 

instance !  And  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment ! 
A  nice  thing  indeed !" 

Wangen  had  nothing  to  do  all  day  now,  so  he 
was  always  busy  with  this  affair  with  Norby,  and 
it  grew  and  grew  in  his  imagination.  At  the  same 
time  he  constantly  had  to  witness  fresh  sad  con- 
sequences of  his  failure.  If  he  only  met  the  old 
tailor  who  had  entrusted  his  small  savings  to  him, 
he  involuntarily  went  another  way ;  for  he  thought 
the  tailor  stared  at  him  with  wild  eyes. 

From  his  early  youth  Henry  Wangen  had  been 
intelligent  and  warmly  interested  in  questions  and 
ideas;  but  these  ideas  had  always  been  aimed  at 
what  others  should  do,  and  how  others  should  be 
helped.  When  finally  an  extraordinary  responsi- 
bility had  brought  him  to  the  last  extremity,  he 
was  in  despair  at  having  to  stand  alone ;  he  felt 
the  duty  of  expiating  and  suffering  to  be  a  burden 
beyond  the  power  of  man  to  bear,  and  he  involun- 
tarily tried  even  now  to  turn  the  matter  into  a 
social  question.  He  had  at  first,  therefore,  half 
unconsciously  wished  and  hoped  that  this  forgery 
matter  was  only  the  expression  of  a  conspiracy 
against  his  business.  Now  he  felt  quite  sure,  and 
every  time  he  could  suspect  some  one  fresh  of 
being  the  rich  men's  accomplice,  he  became  more 
comfortably  certain. 

When  he  really  thought  about  it,  he  had  long 
seen  signs  of  something  brewing  among  his  con- 
nections outside  as  well  as  inside  the  district.  Rich 


112  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE! 

men  were  rich  men,  whether  they  called  themselves 
farmers  or  merchants.  They  were  all  afraid  of 
him  because  of  his  eight-hours  working  day.  And 
they  not  only  wanted  to  force  him  into  bankruptcy 
in  order  to  be  able  to  say  "That's  how  things  go 
with  such  a  short  working  day."  No,  they  wanted 
revenge.  They  wanted  to  send  him  to  prison. 
They  wanted  to  dishonour  him  so  greatly  that  he 
would  henceforth  be  harmless.  He  understood  it 
now.  Like  many  others,  he  had  fallen  a  victim 
to  the  demoniacal  brutality  that  wealth  and  capi- 
tal breed. 

For  this  very  reason  the  work-people  began  to 
be  unspeakably  dear  to  him.  He  no  longer  feared 
them  in  consequence  of  having  deceived  them; 
they  had  become  his  brothers  and  fellow  sufferers ; 
in  was  in  fact  for  their  sakes  that  he  was  now  being 
persecuted. 

In  this  way  the  recollection  of  his  regrets  and 
resolutions  in  the  dark  railway  carriage  became 
less  and  less  frequent,  and  in  their  place  rose  anger 
against  the  social  powers,  whose  the  blame  really 
was.  Nor  was  the  oppressive  sense  of  duty  to 
expiate  and  become  better  himself,  any  longer  any 
concern  of  his ;  in  this  matter,  too,  he  could  leave 
himself  out  of  consideration,  and  look  at  society. 

He  turned  from  the  window,  and  began  to  pace 
the  floor.  "So  he  was  willing  to  let  himself  be 
used  too,  was  he?"  he  thought,  and  the  more  he 
thought  about  it,  the  more  excited  he  became. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  113 

"Fancy !  that  lazy  priest,  who  perhaps  lies  in  bed 
until  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  grudges  the 
working-men  a  little  ease!" 

He  bit  his  lip.  By  jove,  the  working-men  ought 
to  hear  this!  It  would  be  a  good  thing  if  they 
could  hear  it  all  over  the  country.  Priests  were 
priests  all  the  world  over.  He  would  have  it  in 
the  newspapers  in  some  form  or  other. 

And  Norby?  He  might  send  out  as  many 
priests  as  ever  he  liked.  He  should  go  to  prison 
anyhow.  Wait  till  the  day  after  to-morrow ! 


CHAPTER 


EVERY  evening  lately,  Ingeborg  Norby  had  sat 
and  read  the  Bible  to  the  pensioners  in  the  little 
house.  The  pensioners  were  four  in  number,  the 
dairymaid  and  the  two  farm-servants,  who  were 
all  between  seventy  and  eighty  years  of  age,  and 
had  been  in  service  at  the  farm  for  more  than  half 
a  century;  and  the  blind  tenant  farmer,  whom 
Norby  had  taken  in,  so  that  he  should  not  go  to 
the  workhouse. 

In  the  little  room  lay  the  bedridden  dairymaid  ; 
and  in  the  larger  room  sat  the  two  white-haired 
farm-labourers  and  speculated  on  various  matters. 
They  smoked,  moved  from  one  chair  to  another, 
and  talked  together,  chiefly  about  their  various 
illnesses.  The  blind  man  for  the  most  part  kept 
his  bed. 

From  the  large  house  nothing  was  seen  of  these 
four  persons.  Even  Norby  seldom  went  to  see 
them  ;  but  he  kept  them  supplied  with  clothes  and 
tobacco,  although  they  all  had  money  in  the  bank. 

This  evening  the  birch-wood  was  crackling  in 
th.  fetove,  and  the  lamp  shed  its  light  upon  the 
long  table  ;  and  Ingeborg  sat  at  the  door  between 
the  two  rooms  and  read  so  that  she  could  be  heard 
on  both  sides. 

When  she  had  finished  reading,  she  repeated  the 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  115 

Lord's  prayer  and  sang  a  hymn,  in  which  the  two 
old  men  upon  the  bench  tried  to  join.  When  this 
was  over  and  she  was  about  to  go,  one  of  the  men 
said: 

"How  is  the  case  going  on  ?" 

"There  will  be  an  inquiry  the  day  after  to- 
morrow," said  Ingeborg. 

"Ha,  ha !"  laughed  the  blind  man  from  his  bed, 
while  he  scratched  himself. 

"Hasn't  that  there  Wangen  confessed  yet?" 
murmured  one  of  the  farm-labourers,  shaking  his 
head  sympathetically. 

"No!"  sighed  Ingeborg,  adding:  "May  God 
turn  his  heart !" 

"If  he'd  only  been  wise  enough  to  confess  at 
once  his  punishment  would  have  been  lighter,"  said 
the  blind  man,  still  scratching  himself. 

"He  may  have  confessed  to  God,"  said  Inge- 
borg. "But  the  Bible  says  that  if  any  one  wants 
to  do  God's  will,  he  must  go  and  be  reconciled  to 
his  brother.  I'm  sure  if  Wangen  had  come  and 
asked  father  to  forgive  him,  father  would  have  for- 
given him." 

"Yes,  God  bless  him !"  said  the  dairymaid  from 
the  little  room. 

Ingeborg  said  good-night  and  left  the  house. 

The  two  old  men  upon  the  bench  began  to  un- 
dress, with  many  sighs  over  their  rheumatism  and 
pains  in  their  limbs.  One  of  them,  after  taking 
off  his  trousers,  sat  down  upon  the  edge  of  his 


116  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

bed  and  lighted  his  pipe  before  drawing  off  his 
stockings.  The  other  was  also  in  his  drawers,  and 
now  crept  cautiously  in  his  clumsy  slippers  into 
the  dairymaid's  little  room,  and  seated  himself 
upon  the  edge  of  her  bed. 

"Have  you  got  enough  on  you  at  night?"  he 
asked,  as  he  struck  a  match  upon  his  nether  gar- 
ments, and  lighted  his  short  pipe  with  a  trembling 
hand. 

"Oh  yes !"  said  the  dairymaid  in  a  sleepy  voice. 

These  two  had  been  engaged,  and  had  broken 
it  off,  and  been  engaged  again,  over  and  over 
again  for  pretty  well  a  lifetime.  For  a  couple  of 
years  they  were  not  on  friendly  terms,  and  were 
each  engaged  to  some  one  else;  but  then  they 
became  reconciled  and  engaged  again,  until  things 
went  wrong,  and  so  on.  Since  they  had  become 
pensioners,  however,  they  had  made  peace  and  were 
good  friends. 

"Because  you're  welcome  to  one  of  my  sheep- 
skins!" he  said,  looking  at  the  bowl  of  his  pipe 
and  trying  to  make  it  draw. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  such  nonsense!  And  you 
would  lie  and  shiver  perhaps?"  she  said.  "No; 
if  I'm  cold,  I've  only  got  to  speak  to  the  mis- 
tress." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  old  man,  rising  and  tuck- 
ing her  carefully  up.  He  came  in  every  evening 
before  he  went  to  bed  to  ask  her  if  she  wanted 
anything.  It  was  a  kind  of  good-night.  Of  late 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  1IT 

he  had  induced  her  to  smoke,  for  then  he  could 
always  do  her  some  little  service,  such  as  to  clean 
her  pipe  and  cut  up  the  tobacco  for  her.  But 
now,  without  saying  good-night,  he  slouched  away 
and  went  to  bed. 

"You've  forgotten  to  put  out  the  lamp,"  said 
the  blind  man.  He  could  not  see  it,  but  felt  its 
light  upon  him. 

After  the  lamp  was  put  out,  the  three  old  men 
lay  and  yawned  audibly  for  some  time,  until  there 
came  from  the  little  room  a  yawn  so  loud  that 
the  three  men  could  hear  it.  This  was  their  good- 
night to  one  another.. 

"It's  coming  on  to  blow  and  there'll  be  a  storm 
to-night,"  said  the  blind  man,  drawing  the  skin 
coverlet  over  him. 

"Then  they'll  have  to  have  the  snow-plough  out 
again  to-morrow,"  said  one  of  the  others,  after  a 
short  pause.  Then  they  yawned  a  little  more,  and 
silence  fell  upon  the  little  house. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  day  before  the  inquiry,  Norby  was  in  his 
office  all  day,  arranging  his  papers,  making  notes, 
and  preparing  his  answers  to  the  questions  he 
would  probably  be  asked  the  next  day.  He  no 
longer  felt  that  it  was  he  who  accused  Wangen, 
but  on  the  contrary  he  thought  it  was  he  who  had 
to  make  the  defence. 

The  grey  light  of  a  snowy  day  fell  upon  the 
table  and  his  papers,  and  upon  the  old  man  as 
he  stood  with  his  spectacles  far  down  upon  his 
nose,  and  passed  his  defences  in  review.  He  was 
tired  of  going  about  collecting  counter-evidence 
and  taking  declarations;  but  now  he  was  well 
armed,  and  was  only  impatient  to  begin. 

A  slight  smile  came  over  the  old  man's  face  as 
he  looked  at  a  paper  that  he  held  carefully  as  if 
it  were  something  precious.  It  was  precious  too. 
It  was  a  declaration  from  Jorgen  Haarstad's  bed- 
ridden widow;  and  it  would  completely  confound 
the  evidence  that  Soren  Kvikne  was  going  to  give. 
This  was  amusing,  because  Herlufsen  would  be 
disappointed.  The  old  man  was  looking  forward 
with  intense  pleasure  to  the  moment  when  he 
should  read  the  declaration  aloud  in  court,  per- 
haps with  Herlufsen  sitting  there  and  listening 
to  it.  There  was  no  doubt  that  poor  Soren  had 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  119 

simply  been  bribed  to  give  evidence  as  to  his  hav- 
ing heard  this  remark  of  Jorgen  Haarstad's. 
That  was  the  kind  of  means  these  people  used; 
it  was  really  beyond  a  joke. 

The  old  man  began  to  pace  the  floor,  sighing 
now  and  again.  He  was  pale ;  of  late  he  had  been 
unable  to  think  of  anything  but  of  how  he  could 
be  even  with  his  enemies.  He  had  as  it  were  passed 
by  the  actual  heart  of  the  matter  in  a  railway 
train ;  and  it  now  lay  so  far  behind  in  mist,  that 
there  were  far  more  important  things  to  be 
thought  of.  It  was  clear,  too,  that  it  was  not 
justice  that  his  enemies  were  so  anxious  for.  No; 
what  they  were  striving  to  do  was  to  injure  him 
and  knock  him  down. 

At  one  time  that  scene  at  the  hotel  had  stood 
very  distinctly  before  him;  but  Wangen's  asser- 
tion that  it  took  place  in  the  Grand  Cafe  had 
taken  the  sting  out  of  the  recollection.  "Oh," 
thought  Norby.  "So  it  was  at  the  Grand?  Very 
well!  Perhaps  he's  right.  But  then  it's  all  the 
more  certain  that  it's  a  lie.  I've  never  in  my  life 
signed  any  document  at  the  Grand.  If  any  paper 
was  signed  there  with  my  name,  then  it's  a  forg- 
ery!" Although  these  thoughts  did  not  always 
bring  satisfaction,  it  was  nevertheless  a  relief  to 
let  them  out.  And  there  was  so  much  besides  to 
indicate  that  Wangen's  hands  were  not  clean; 
there  were  thousands  of  other  things  to  think 
about  and  be  incensed  over,  and  the  old  man  had 


120  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

now  so  often  expressed  himself  regarding  the 
affair,  that  to  remember  his  assertions  was  the 
same  as  remembering  the  reality. 

He  was  still  standing  rummaging  among  his 
papers,  when  the  door  opened  and  Marit  entered. 

"Didn't  I  hear  you  talking  at  the  telephone?" 
asked  the  old  man,  looking  over  his  spectacles. 

"Einar's  coming  home  to-day,"  she  said.  "He 
has  asked  to  be  met  at  the  station  with  a 
sledge." 

The  old  man  put  his  hands  behind  his  back  and 
his  legs  astride,  and  looked  at  her  over  his  spec- 
tacles. 

"What  do  you  say?"  he  exclaimed.  "Einar 
coming  home  now?  He  must  have  plenty  of  time, 
that  gentleman.  He  must  be  thinking  of  becom- 
ing a  perpetual  student !" 

"You  are  so  hot-tempered,"  said  Marit. 
"You're  generally  glad  to  have  the  boy  come 
home." 

He  did  not  answer,  but  again  began  to  rum- 
mage among  his  papers.  Was  the  boy  going  to 
interfere  in  earnest  in  this  affair?  He  felt  as  if 
an  enemy  had  suddenly  stabbed  him  in  the  back. 
Einar?  He'd  better  try,  that's  all. 

"If  only  he  doesn't  first  go  and  talk  to  his 
mother  about  it,"  thought  the  old  man.  "But 
that  wouldn't  be  like  him." 

He  hung  about,  however,  on  the  watch  to  be  the 
first  to  meet  his  son  at  the  house. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  121 

When  Einar  alighted  at  the  station,  he  found 
Ingeborg  waiting  with  horse  and  sledge. 

The  mocking  voice  had  at  last  forced  Einar's 
courage  up ;  and  when  he  finally  determined  to  go 
home,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  burnt  his  ships  behind 
him.  He  would  put  this  matter  right,  and  first 
of  all  he  would  try  to  bring  his  father  to  reason ; 
but  all  the  time  he  felt  as  if  he  were  going  up  for 
an  examination. 

When  he  saw  the  old  brown  horse,  the  familiar 
double  sledge  and  fur  rug,  a  warm  feeling  seemed 
to  come  to  him  from  home;  and  as  he  sat  beside 
his  sister,  driving  homewards  amid  the  jingle  of 
the  sledge-bells,  he  was  imperceptibly  filled  with 
the  childlike  happiness  of  going  home.  But  these 
were  the  feelings  that  Einar  had  had  to  overcome 
before  he  came  to  his  determination;  and  he  was 
therefore  on  guard  against  them,  for  on  this  occa- 
sion they  were  a  danger. 

Ingeborg  had  met  him  at  Christmas  with  the 
same  horse,  and  this  brought  a  host  of  bright, 
pleasant  recollections  into  his  mind.  He  thought 
of  the  ball  they  had  given,  remembered  the  doc- 
tor's daughter,  who  looked  so  pretty  that  evening, 
saw  her  eyes.  His  father  and  mother  had  done 
everything  to  make  them  enjoy  themselves.  And 
now?  Now  he  had  a  feeling  that  he  was  coming 
home  as  a  traitor  in  disguise. 

"Why  have  you  come  so  suddenly  ?"  asked  Inge- 
borg. 


122  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

"To  be  here  at  the  inquiry,"  he  answered.  "I 
want  to  see  how  it  will  turn  out." 

"Oh,  you  can  be  quite  sure  that  father's  all 
right,"  she  said  with  warm  conviction.  Einar 
found  himself  wishing  it  might  be  so,  and  had  to 
say  hastily  to  himself :  "Take  care  that  your  good 
feelings  don't  weaken  your  purpose." 

"Poor  father,"  said  Ingeborg.  "You  can't 
think  what  stories  people  are  telling  about  him 
now.  That  Wangen  must  be  a  dreadful  man !" 

Her  eyes  shone  with  confidence  in  her  father, 
and  Einar  felt  the  infection. 

"How  are  they  all  at  home?"  he  asked,  in  order 
to  change  the  subject. 

"Little  Knut  has  not  been  very  well,"  answered 
Ingeborg,  "but  he  is  better  now."  At  these  words, 
Einar  seemed  to  see  the  little  fatherless  boy  look- 
ing at  him  and  asking:  "Are  you  really  going  to 
be  unkind  to  grandfather?" 

A  little  later  Ingeborg  told  him  that  a  young 
horse  had  been  found  dead  in  its  stable  the  morn- 
ing before.  Einar  felt  for  his  father's  loss,  and 
seemed  to  be  standing  at  his  side  and  looking  at 
the  stable  where  the  horses  were  stamping.  And 
he  thought  how  the  beautiful  creatures  would  turn 
their  heads  in  their  stalls  and  whinny  their  recog- 
nition of  him,  as  if  they  too  would  say :  "Are  you 
really  going  to!"  For  he  kept  in  mind  all  the 
time  that  he  would  have  to  go  through  it  all. 

As  they  turned  up  the  avenue  and  approached 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  128 

the  house,  he  asked  himself  again:  "Am  I  really 
going  to?"  It  began  to  seem  dreadful. 

When  they  turned  into  the  yard,  their  father 
and  mother  stood  upon  the  steps,  as  they  always 
did  when  he  came  home. 

"How  do  you  do,  father?  How  do  you  do, 
mother?"  he  cried;  but  the  words  sounded  like 
treachery  to-day. 

"Come  into  my  office ;  I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing," said  his  father,  when  Einar  had  taken  off 
his  coat  in  the  passage. 

"But  you  must  come  in  soon  and  have  some- 
thing to  eat,"  said  his  mother.  "It's  all 
ready." 

When  they  entered  the  office,  Norby  turned 
round  at  the  writing-table,  and  said,  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back  and  his  legs  astride: 

"I  only  want  to  tell  you  that  your  mother 
knows  nothing  about  your  letter." 

Einar  inclined  his  head,  and  the  old  man  con- 
tinued : 

"And  if  that's  what  you've  come  home  about, 
you'll  have  to  keep  to  me." 

"Very  well,  father." 

"So  that  is  what  you've  come  for?" 

"Yes,  father,"  said  Einar  in  a  low  voice. 

The  old  man  compressed  his  lips,  but  he  moved 
towards  the  door,  saying:  "Well,  let's  first  go  in 
and  have  dinner."  Einar  followed  in  a  shame- 
faced way,  as  if  he  were  a  naughty  boy.  He  was 


124  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

old  enough  to  see  his  father's  faults,  but  he  had 
a  very  great  respect  for  him. 

"Then  mother  knows  nothing,"  he  thought. 
"And  if  father  is  so  afraid  of  its  coming  to  her 
ears "  He  dared  not  think  it  out. 

The  old  man  was  quiet,  almost  cheerful,  during 
dinner ;  but  Einar  noticed  how  pale  he  was.  His 
mother  seemed  to  have  grown  greyer  lately,  and 
he  felt  an  involuntary  desire  to  spare  her ;  she  had 
such  complete  faith  in  their  cause. 

He  felt  more  and  more  drawn  into  the  home 
atmosphere.  He  asked  for  news  from  the  dis- 
trict, and  had  to  tell  his  news  from  town.  He 
had  his  old  place  at  table,  and  was  the  son  just 
returned  home,  to  whom  every  one  showed  the 
most  friendly  face.  Little  Knut  came  creeping 
under  the  table  several  times,  and  up  between  his 
knees.  Everything  combined  to  draw  him  into 
something  beautiful  and  soft,  where  he  felt  he 
must  surrender;  but  all  the  time  a  good  instinct 
seemed  to  be  shaking  him.  "Take  care!"  it  said, 
"take  care !  Don't  let  your  good  feelings  play  you 
a  trick!" 

"Now,  little  Knut,"  said  the  little  boy's  mother, 
"you  mustn't  worry  uncle." 

It  sometimes  happens  that  we  suddenly  receive 
a  new  impression  of  a  person,  as  if  he  had  in  a 
moment  changed  his  identity.  Up  to  the  present 
Einar  had  looked  upon  his  father  as  the  man  who 
was  unjustly  accusing  Wangen,  and  whom  he  was 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  125 

ready  to  oppose;  but  before  he  was  aware  of  it, 
this  same  father  was  he  who  had  been  laid  up  last 
winter  with  typhoid  fever,  and  was  perhaps  not 
quite  recovered  from  it  yet. 

On  the  way  home,  Ingeborg  had  told  him  of  all 
the  false  accusations  that  Wangen  was  spreading 
about  their  father;  and  now  Einar  too  felt  his 
anger  rising,  and  at  the  same  time  a  desire  to 
take  his  father's  part.  As  the  atmosphere  of 
home  gradually  brought  out  the  feeling  of  being 
son  of  the  house,  he  felt  an  increasing  shame  of 
his  intention  to  betray  his  father,  his  own  family. 
Here  they  were  all  sitting  round  him  without  a 
suspicion  of  the  true  object  of  his  journey.  He 
felt  like  a  tyrant  who  was  going  to  make  use  of 
his  power  of  bringing,  with  a  single  word,  mis- 
fortune upon  them  all. 

After  dinner  he  felt  inclined  to  sit  down  and 
chat  with  his  mother  and  little  Knut;  but  his 
father,  calling  to  him  to  come,  went  towards  the 
door. 

"God  help  me!"  thought  Einar.  "Now  it's 
coming."  His  purpose  was  already  so  weakened, 
that  he  heartily  wished  himself  back  in  town.  Lit- 
tle Knut  wanted  to  go  with  him,  but  Einar  loos- 
ened the  clasp  of  his  hands  about  his  knees,  say- 
ing: "I'll  soon  be  back,  Knut." 

In  the  office  the  old  man  sat  down  in  his  cus- 
tomary place  at  the  writing-table;  and  Einar 
could  not  help  admiring  the  tranquillity  with 


126  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

which  his  father  slowly  and  deliberately  filled  his 
pipe. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  said  the  old  man,  care- 
fully lighting  his  long  pipe,  and  then  calmly  lying 
down  upon  the  leather  sofa.  Einar  sat  down  a 
little  way  off. 

"Are  you  in  want  of  money?"  asked  the  old 
man,  raising  his  eyelids  just  far  enough  to  be  able 
to  look  at  his  son. 

Einar  felt  slightly  irritated  at  this  question 
being  put  just  now,  and  answered  quickly:  "No, 
thank  you !" 

The  old  man  himself  was  a  little  embarrassed; 
for  he  had  a  secret  respect  for  this  son,  who  knew 
so  much,  and  in  a  way  was  of  a  finer  metal  than 
himself.  He  would  treat  him  as  well  as  he  pos- 
sibly could. 

"What  was  that  nonsense  you  wrote  in  your 
last  letter?"  he  said  at  last,  once  more  raising  his 
eyes. 

Einar  rose  involuntarily.  A  voice  within  him 
seemed  to  say:  "Be  brave!"  He  began  a  little 
hesitatingly : 

"I  didn't  mean  any  harm,  father;  and  I  still 
seem  to  remember  that  day  you  came  up  to  my 
room  and  told  me  about  the  guarantee." 

The  old  man  laughed  a  little,  and  pressed  down 
the  tobacco  in  the  bowl  of  his  pipe  with  his  fore- 
finger. "My  dear  boy,"  he  said  at  last,  putting 
on  a  merry  look,  "you've  dreamt  that." 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  127 

"No,  father,"  said  Einar,  in  rather  an  injured 
tone:  "I'm  not  a  child.  It's  my  firm  conviction 
that  you're  mistaken  in  this  matter.  It's  quite 
possible  you've  forgotten  it.  And  I  want  to  ask 
you  to  take  back  your  accusation,  for  I  suppose 
there's  still  time,  and  of  course  I  know  that  you 
wouldn't  do  anything  that  was  wrong." 

"Are  you  taking  leave  of  your  senses,  man?" 
exclaimed  the  old  man,  taking  his  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth  and  looking  at  his  son  in  astonishment, 
although  he  laughed  again. 

Einar  bowed  slightly,  and  said,  "I  mean  no 
harm,  father." 

"Yes,  you  mean  no  harm,"  said  the  old  man, 
trying  again  to  laugh,  "but  do  you  quite  know 
what  it  is  that  you're  accusing  me  of?"  And  the 
astonishment  with  which  he  now  looked  at  his  son 
was  more  serious. 

Einar  put  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  leant 
against  the  wall.  He  had  become  more  cour- 
ageous, and  all  the  time  he  heard  the  good  voice 
saying:  "Take  care!" 

"Can't  you  remember  that  day,  father,  when 
you  came  up  to  my  room  and " 

His  father  interrupted  him  with  another  laugh. 

"No,  Einar ;  you  can't  expect  me  to  remember 
what  you  dream." 

For  a  moment  Einar  felt  perplexed.  He  had 
expected  to  be  loaded  with  abuse;  but  this  kind- 
ness and  this  cool  assurance  began  to  disarm  him. 


128  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

He  passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  and 
looked  before  him  a  little  helplessly.  Had  he 
dreamt  it?  Was  it  really  nonsense  he  was  talk- 
ing? 

And  though  for  his  part  the  old  man  laughed, 
he  thought  to  himself:  "I  wonder  whether  some 
one  or  other  has  been  taking  the  boy  in !  It  would 
be  just  like  them!" 

But  now  Einar  raised  his  head. 
•     "No,  father,"  he  said,  "I'm  not  making  a  mis- 
take;   for  you  haven't  put  your  name  to   any 
other  papers  for  Wangen,  have  you?" 

"Ha !  ha !  ha !    No  indeed,  thank  goodness !" 

"Well,  father,  then  you  must  take  back  your 
accusation,  for  Wangen  is  innocent!" 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Take  back  my  accusation?"  The  old  man  sat 
up,  and  passed  his  hand  over  the  crown  of  his 
head,  looking  straight  in  front  of  him,  and  put- 
ting bits  of  his  beard  into  his  mouth.  At  length 
he  said,  with  stony  gaiety :  "Oh  no,  Einar !  It's 
you  who  are  talking  nonsense.  So  I  propose  that 
you  go  back  to  town  again,  and  set  to  work  upon 
things  that  you  understand  better  than  you  do 
this  matter."  Saying  which  he  rose,  and  took  a 
step  towards  the  table.  Einar  had  noticed  an 
alteration  in  his  father's  voice,  which  indicated 
storm. 

"Well?"  said  the  old  man,  turning  round.  "You 
stand  there  like  a  parson  in  the  pulpit  P* 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  129 

"Once  more,  father,  take  back  your  accusation ! 
Do,  father!" 

"You're  quite  sure  your  father's  a  scoundrel?" 

"It's  only  that  you  don't  remember,  father !" 

"Now  seriously,  Einar,  what  have  you  come 
home  for?"  His  father  looked  actually  curious, 
and  Einar  felt  angry  at  not  being  taken  seriously. 
So  he  said  as  forcibly  as  he  could: 

"I've  come  home,  father,  to  prevent  you  doing 
something  you  will  repent  of." 

"Don't  you  think,  Einar,"  his  voice  sounded  a 
little  pained,  "that  I've  got  enough  with  half  the 
parish  down  upon  me?  There  are  numbers  of 
them  only  trying  to  get  me  locked  up.  And  now 
you  come  too !  Aren't  you  ashamed  ?" 

Einar's  head  sank.  "Father — but — ."  His 
knees  began  to  give  way  under  him;  but  unwit- 
tingly his  father  came  to  his  aid : 

"Who  has  persuaded  you  to  do  this,  Einar?" 

"Who?"  Einar  looked  up  suddenly,  bit  his  lip 
and  took  a  step  forward.  His  voice  trembled  with 
anger  as  he  said:  "What  do  you  mean  by  that, 
father?" 

The  old  man  could  not  help  laughing  at  the 
lad's  imperiousness.  "I  believe  you  mean  to  go 
to  the  inquiry  and  give  evidence  against  your 
father!"  he  said,  and  laughed  again. 

"If  you  take  back  your  accusation,  father,  I 
shan't  have  to."  Would  his  father  take  him 
seriously  now?. 


ISO  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

A  deep  flush  overspread  the  old  man's  face. 
He  attempted  to  laugh,  to  gnaw  his  beard,  to  pass 
his  hand  over  the  crown  of  his  head,  to  sit  down; 
but  he  did  none  of  these  things.  He  rushed  at 
Einar,  took  him  by  the  collar,  and  said  laughing, 
but  at  the  same  time  grinding  his  teeth:  "Go! 
Go !  And  you  shall  go  back  to  town  this  very  day, 
or  else — heaven  help  you!" 

He  drew  back  a  couple  of  steps,  as  if  afraid  of 
being  tempted  to  strike  him.  "Ha,  ha !  Indeed !" 
And  he  suddenly  began  to  measure  him  from  top 
to  toe.  He  had  only  just  become  aware  that  the 
young  man  who  stood  there  was  no  boy  whom  he 
could  laugh  at  or  thrash.  It  was  his  own  son, 
who  had  suddenly  grown  up,  and  now  stood  up 
as  his  opponent — he  too! 

"Will  you  go?" 

"Take  back  your  accusation,  father." 

This  was  too  much.  The  old  man  seized  a  chair, 
lifted  it  up  and  cried:  "Be  off  with  you!  Go, 
do  you  hear?  Will  you  leave  the  room  at  once? 
Be  off,  do  you  hear  ?  Go,  Einar !" 

"Yes,  I'm  going!"  said  Einar,  raising  his  head. 
He  was  so  angry  that  he  would  have  liked  to  take 
the  chair  away  from  his  father  and  show  him  that 
he  was  too  old  now  to  let  himself  be  struck.  "But 
let  me  tell  you,"  he  continued,  "that  you'll  have 
to  leave  off  treating  me  in  that  way.  Good-bye !" 
And  so  saying,  he  slowly  left  the  room. 

As  evening  fell,  Norby  drove  out.     After  sup- 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  131 

per,  Einar  felt  a  longing  to  confide  everything  to 
his  mother,  but  he  did  not  dare.  What  should  he 
do  in  the  morning?  Should  he  flee  from  the  affair? 
It  seemed  doubly  hard  now  that  he  had  staked 
so  much  upon  it.  He  went  early  to  bed,  for  he 
was  afraid  of  the  influences  that  hovered  about 
the  rooms  downstairs  and  the  people  there;  they 
all  seemed  to  tempt  him  to  surrender. 

In  his  little  room,  the  birch-wood  crackled  in 
the  stove,  and  diffused  the  familiar  odour  of  which 
he  was  so  fond.  A  metal  candlestick  shone  in  the 
light  from  the  stove,  and  in  it  stood  a  candle  of 
his  mother's  own  moulding.  He  had  fled  from  the 
good  impressions  in  the  downstairs  rooms,  and 
had  run  straight  into  the  new  ones  here,  that  quite 
folded  him  in  their  embrace.  The  sheets  on  the  bed, 
the  clean  curtains  at  the  window,  the  recollections 
of  all  the  nights  he  had  spent  here  in  his  holidays 
— everything  asked:  "Are  you  really  going  to?" 

"I  shall  never  be  able  to  do  it,"  he  thought,  as 
he  lay  in  his  comfortable  bed,  wrapped  up  in  his 
mother's  sheets  and  blankets.  It  was  very  differ- 
ent from  what  he  was  accustomed  to  in  the  board- 
ing-house in  town.  "But  suppose  sentence  is 
passed  on  Wangen,  and  I  might  have  saved  him! 
God  help  me !  I  should  never  have  another  happy 
day." 

During  the  night  Ingeborg  was  awakened  by 
Einar's  coming  into  her  room  with  a  candle  in  his 
hand. 


132  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked,  rubbing  her 
eyes. 

"Hush!"  he  said,  for  there  was  only  a  thin 
match-boarding  between  her  room  and  the  one  in 
which  her  parents  slept. 

"There's  something  I  must  tell  you,  Ingeborg." 
And  he  seated  himself  upon  the  edge  of  her  bed 
with  the  light  in  his  hand.  At  first  it  dazzled 
her,  but  she  soon  grew  accustomed  to  it.  These 
two  had  always  been  one  another's  confidants, 
for  Ingeborg  was  the  nearest  to  her  brother  in 
age. 

He  spoke  almost  in  a  whisper,  and  she  listened 
to  him  with  wide-open,  frightened  eyes,  and  her 
breath  coming  quicker  and  quicker.  She  made 
excuses,  she  seized  his  hand  convulsively,  and  said : 
"Don't  say  any  more,  Einar !  You  must  be  mad !" 
But  she  took  his  hand  again.  She  wanted  to  hear 
all  his  reasons,  and  he  told  her  them,  because  he 
needed  to  have  some  one  on  his  side.  At  length 
she  closed  her  eyes  as  if  she  did  not  dare  to  look 
up ;  she  breathed  still  more  heavily ;  something 
seemed  to  have  given  way  within  her. 

When  at  last  he  left  her,  she  lay  still  with  her 
eyes  closed.  She  began  to  be  afraid  because  it  was 
so  dismally  dark,  and  it  was  such  a  long  time  to 
morning. 

She  tossed  about  in  her  bed  and  could  not  sleep, 
owing  to  an  indefinable  terror.  A  criminal  had 
found  his  way  into  the  house,  he  was  sleeping 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  133 

under  the  same  roof;  and  this  criminal  was — he 

was  her No,  no,  it  was  not  true !  It  could  not 

be  true! 

"0  God,  help  me !  Help  me !"  she  sobbed  out  in 
passionate  ecstasy.  "Help  me!  Give  me  a  sign 
that  it  is  not  true!"  But  she  suddenly  noticed 
that  it  seemed  as  if  God  were  gone.  It  was  the 
first  time  this  had  happened  since  her  conversion. 
What  was  it!  Why  did  she  not  go  on  praying, 
instead  of  lying,  her  eyes  gazing  terror-stricken 
into  the  darkness.  Was  there  no  God?  Had  it 
all  been  a  delusion?  She  had  prayed  that  this 
affair  might  turn  out  well  for  her  father.  She 
had  thanked  God  for  his  innocence,  and  felt  a 
comfort  in  thanking  Him.  She  had  also  prayed 
for  Wangen;  she  had  won  this  victory  over  her- 
self and  had  felt  a  pleasure  in  it.  And  was  it 
all  a  delusion?  Had  God  made  fun  of  her?  Or 
did  He  not  exist?  Was  that  a  delusion  too?  Was 
this  comfort  to  her  soul  in  being  in  fellowship 
with  Him,  this  pleasure  in  doing  good,  also  delu- 
sion, delusion,  delusion? 

She  tossed  about  in  her  bed,  weeping  convul- 
sively. If  her  father  were  guilty,  then  there  was 
no  God.  It  was  all  a  delusion,  a  delusion! 

"O  God,  give  me  a  sign  that  Thou  art!  Give 
me  peace !  Is  my  father  a  bad  man,  who  will  give 
false  evidence  to-morrow?  My  father?  O  God, 
give  me  a  sign !  Help  me  if  there  be  a  God !  For 
Christ's  sake,  give  me  a  sign!" 


134  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

At  last  she  knelt  in  her  bed,  stretching  out  her 
clasped  hands. 

Towards  morning  Einar  was  greatly  astonished 
to  see  Ingeborg  come  creeping  into  his  room.  She 
took  his  face  between  her  hands,  and  said  in  a 
voice  that  trembled  with  joy: 

"I  must  tell  you  at  once.  You've  made  a  mis- 
take, and  thank  God  for  it!"  She  involuntarily 
laid  her  hand  upon  her  breast. 

He  lighted  the  candle  and  looked  questioningly 
at  her.  Her  eyes  were  positively  shining  with  j  oy . 

"Yes,  Einar,  God  has  given  me  a  sign.  You've 
made  a  mistake,  and  I  was  sure  you  had.  And  now 
you  must  go  and  ask  father's  pardon."  She 
stroked  his  forehead  with  her  hand,  and  disap- 
peared noiselessly. 

"Poor  Ingeborg !"  thought  Einar.  This  young 
girl,  whose  hair  sorrow  had  turned  grey — this 
nun,  who  lived  always  with  her  thoughts  on  the 
other  side  of  the  grave — would  it  not  crush  her, 
too,  if  to-morrow  he ? 

"Remember,  Einar,  whatever  you  do,  don't  take 
any  family  considerations !" 


CHAPTER  V 

WHEN  Norby  drove  off  the  next  morning,  his  wife 
sat  by  his  side.  He  always  wanted  her  with  him 
when  anything  serious  was  going  on. 

It  was  a  grey  winter's  day,  and  the  snow  was 
falling  fast.  As  they  turned  out  of  the  yard,  the 
old  man's  thought  was:  "I  wonder  how  things 
will  be  when  we  drive  in  here  again." 

At  last  the  day  was  come  of  which  he  had  once 
stood  in  such  fear,  but  which  had  gone  on  in- 
exorably approaching.  He  was  not  afraid  now; 
he  was  only  impatient  to  begin,  like  the  excited 
gambler,  who  only  thinks  of  winning.  A  slight 
suspicion  that  some  enemy  or  other  had  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  Einar's  behaviour  the  day  be- 
fore, only  increased  his  inward  excitement.  They 
didn't  know  what  shame  was,  those  people! 
They  bought  witnesses  like  that  Soren  Kvikne. 
They  tried  to  make  the  son  rise  against  his  father. 
But  just  let  them  wait! 

The  court-house  lay  near  the  sound,  which  is 
the  centre  of  the  parish,  and  near  which  the  magis- 
trates lived  upon  their  farms.  Along  the  narrow 
lines  that  ran  across  the  stretches  of  snow  and 
represented  roads,  people  could  be  seen  like  black 
dots  moving  in  the  direction  of  the  court-house. 
The  body  of  the  court  would  be  full  enough  to-day. 


136  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

The  first  person  Norby  saw  when  he  got  there 
was  Herlufsen,  in  his  great  wolf-skin  coat;  and 
the  first  thing  he  did  when  he  got  out  of  the 
sledge  was  to  go  up  and  shake  hands  with  him. 
Herlufsen  also  advanced  to  meet  him,  drawn  like 
steel  to  magnet.  The  handshake  was  warm,  and 
the  two  smiling  faces  shone  with  pleasure  at  meet- 
ing one  another.  Both  were  thinking:  "I  wouldn't 
be  in  your  shoes  to-day  for  something!"  So 
Herlufsen  invited  Norby  to  take  a  cup  of  coffee 
with  him  at  the  hotel,  but  Norby  protested  that 
on  this  occasion  he  would  stand  treat. 

The  doors  were  almost  too  narrow  to  admit  the 
big,  fur-clad  men.  At  the  coffee-table  they  were 
soon  warmly  united  in  speaking  evil  of  one  and 
another  whom  they  both  hated.  The  great  case 
they  only  ventured  to  mention  very  carefully,  for 
fear  that  the  one  should  see  through  the  other. 

Outside  there  was  a  bitter  east  wind  blowing, 
which  swept  the  smoke  from  the  neighbouring  fac- 
tories through  the  driving  snow.  People  walked 
about  beating  their  hands  together  to  warm  them ; 
and  some  went  into  the  baker's  shop  and  bought 
bread  as  an  excuse  to  warm  themselves.  At  length 
the  magistrate  arrived,  the  court  was  opened,  and 
the  people  streamed  in,  stamping  the  snow  from 
their  boots  as  they  went  up  the  stairs. 

When  Marit  Norby  entered,  she  saw  the  pas- 
tor's wife  and  Fru  Thora  of  Lidarende  among  the 
audience.  They  both  gave  her  a  friendly  recog- 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  137 

nition,    and   made   room   for   her  between   them. 

When  Wangen  stood  at  the  bar  and  protested 
his  innocence,  the  pastor's  wife  turned  towards 
Marit  Norby  with  a  sigh  and  a  look,  which  said: 
"Poor  man,  how  foolish  he  is!" 

Thora  of  Lidarende  already  felt  as  if  she  must 
burst  into  tears.  Wangen  was  so  pale  and  ema- 
ciated; his  throat  was  so  thin  inside  his  collar, 
and  the  back  of  his  head  seemed  so  big.  His  back 
was  actually  bent.  Poor  man !  If  only  he  would 
confess ! 

It  never  occurred  to  Fru  Thora  that  her  opinion 
of  Wangen's  guilt  could  be  wrong,  since  she  sat 
there  and  pitied  him.     From  the  very  first  this 
opinion  had  fostered  a  number  of  beautiful,  chari- 
table thoughts  in  her  mind;    and  she  therefore 
never  considered  how  she  had  arrived  at  it.     It 
was  a  view  that  had  made  her  willing  to  make 
some  sacrifice,  for  instance,  to  adopt  one  of  Wan- 
gen's children ;    and  a  conviction  for  which  oneA 
sacrifices  something,  not  only  becomes  a  certainty,  / 
but  grows  so  dear  that  it  actually  acquires  a  moral  [ 
value. 

"Poor  Wangen!"  she  thought.  "Who  can  say 
whether  all  this  is  not  really  the  outcome  of  an 
unfortunate  inheritance  from  his  father?  But  the 
human  tribunal  does  not  take  that  into  considera- 
tion ;  it  is  merciless ;"  and  at  that  thought  she 
seemed  to  see  before  her  a  community  with  tri- 
bunals that  were  different. 


138  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

Knut  Norby  was  called  as  the  first  witness  in 
the  case.  The  moment  had  come  for  which  he  had 
previously  felt  such  terror.  He  had  to  go  in  and 
say  that  he  had  not  put  his  name  to  any  paper  for 
Wangen. 

When  he  entered  the  corridor  he  felt  the  excite- 
ment of  the  card-player  who  has  good  cards  in 
his  hand,  and  is  impatient  to  play  them.  His 
one  thought  was  that  he  must  not  for  the  world 
forget  anything.  As  his  hand  touched  the  handle 
of  the  door,  a  far-off  voice  seemed  to  say :  "Turn 
back !  There  is  still  time !"  But  the  voice  was  far 
too  distant.  "Did  you  really  defraud  that 
widow?"  said  another  voice;  and  this  filled  him 
with  a  desire  to  knock  Wangen  down.  As  he 
entered  the  court,  he  raised  his  shoulders  a  little, 
as  he  was  accustomed  to  do  when  he  knew  that  a 
number  of  people  were  looking  at  him.  The  first 
thing  he  saw  was  Wangen  in  the  dock ;  and  when 
their  eyes  met  in  a  flash,  the  old  man  felt  a  dull 
anger  rising  within  him.  He  remembered  all  the 
reports  that  Wangen  had  spread  about  him. 
"You  wait !"  he  thought. 

On  his  way  to  the  witness-box  he  saw  both  the 
pastor's  wife  and  Fru  Thora  nodding  to  him,  and 
it  gave  him  encouragement.  When  he  saw  that 
it  was  not  the  magistrate  himself,  but  his  head 
clerk  who  was  conducting  the  inquiry,  he  was 
offended.  The  magistrate  might  send  hit  clerk 
to  unimportant  cases;  but  it  was  Knut  Norby 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  139 

that  this  concerned.  When  the  young  man  with 
the  eye-glasses  and  the  downy  moustache  adjured 
him  to  speak  the  truth,  the  old  man  felt  a  desire 
to  laugh.  Fancy  that  whipper-snapper  acting 
magistrate !  He  had  heard  that  this  very  gentle- 
man had  been  as  drunk  as  a  lord  at  Lawyer  Bast- 
ing's last  Saturday  evening.  And  there  sat 
Basting,  too,  that  pauper,  trying  to  look  like  a 
sage !  He  had  come  already  to  help  Wangen,  the 
fool!  Yes,  this  was  a  court  to  inspire  respect! 

The  questioning  began.  Norby  found  it  easy  to 
answer,  just  because  Basting  was  on  the  watch. 
He  had  been  on  the  watch,  too,  when  he  had  tried 
to  agitate  for  Norby's  removal  from  the  bank 
board,  and  to  get  appointed  himself.  The  poor 
wretch's  goods  were  distrained  for  the  poor-rate, 
and  he  was  thankful  to  get  a  bill  for  two  krones 
to  collect.  And  that  man  was  on  the  watch 
against  Knut  Norby?  Supposing  it  were  he  who 
had  got  hold  of  Einar ! 

"Wangen  asserts  that  he  distinctly  remembers 
the  place  where  the  signing  took  place,"  said  the 
clerk. 

"Well,  perhaps  I  might  be  allowed  to  know 
where  it  was,  too,"  said  Norby,  innocently. 

The  clerk  turned  towards  Wangen.  "Wasn't 
it  at  the  Grand  Cafe"?" 

Wangen  rose,  and  his  eyes  shone  as  brightly 
now  when  he  said  it  took  place  at  the  Grand  as 
when  he  said  he  was  innocent. 


140  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

To  Norby  this  gave  a  welcome  touch  of  com- 
icality, and  he  answered  with  deep  conviction: 
"That  document  was  not  signed  by  me." 

At  these  words  he  heard  a  little  sarcastic  laugh 
from  Wangen,  which  made  him  boil  with  rage. 
"I'll  give  him  something  to  laugh  at,"  he  thought. 
"Wait  a  little !" 

Then  something  happened,  which  came  quite  un- 
expectedly upon  Norby.  The  clerk  took  out  a 
paper  and  handed  it  to  him.  "Here  is  the  docu- 
ment," he  said,  "and  there  is  your  name.  Will 
you  see  whether  it  resembles  your  signature?  You 
might  possibly  have  forgotten  the  matter." 

For  a  moment  Norby  saw  his  name,  as  he  him- 
self had  written  it.  It  had  the  effect  of  a  ghost. 
He  would  not  look  at  it.  He  looked  at  Lawyer 
Basting,  who  was  looking  askance  at  him,  and  this 
made  him  quite  angry,  and  he  threw  the  document 
upon  the  table,  saying:  "I  don't  need  to  look  at 
that  thing.  I  know  what  I've  done." 

At  this  Basting  asked  permission  to  put  a  ques- 
tion, and  rising,  came  nearer  to  the  witness-box. 
"Has  Wangen  never  asked  you  to  be  surety  for 
him?"  he  asked. 

Norby  looked  contemptuously  at  the  greasy- 
looking,  bald-headed  old  man.  He  was  about  to 
laugh  or  give  a  scornful  answer ;  but  a  voice  whis- 
pered! "Take  care  not  to  let  the  cat  out  of  the 
bag!"  and  he  said  with  a  smile: 

"A  great  many  people  have  asked  me  to  be 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  141 

surety  for  them ;  but  I  can't  remember  them  all." 
Then,  irritated  at  again  hearing  Wangen's  sar- 
castic laugh,  he  added  casually:  "He  must  have 
asked  me,  however;  for  latterly  he  was  running 
about  and  asking  every  blessed  soul  he  knew." 

This  time  he  heard  Marit  laugh. 

When  his  examination  was  over,  he  remembered 
the  declaration  from  Haarstad's  widow,  and  asked 
to  be  recalled  when  Soren  Kvikne  had  given  evi- 
dence. When  he  came  out  of  the  room  he  stood 
on  the  stairs  for  a  little  while  to  cool  himself 
before  putting  on  his  cap.  There  was  a  voice 
far  away,  crying:  "You  have  lied!"  But  it  was 
too  far  away,  and  powerful  voices  rose  against 
it.  It  was  true,  was  it,  that  he  had  defrauded  that 
widow? 

He  still  seemed  to  hear  Wangen's  laughter, 
and  he  thought  once  more:  "Wait  a  little,  and 
I'll  give  you  something  to  laugh  at!"  He  still 
had  his  best  cards  in  his  hand. 

"It's  too  bad  all  the  same,"  he  thought,  as  he 
sauntered  across  the  yard,  "that  one  should  be 
exposed  to  the  attacks  of  such  riff-raff.  You  have 
both  to  circumvent  them  and  to  wriggle  away 

from  them ;  but  I'll  be  d d  if  that  man  doesn't 

have  to  leave  the  parish  now !" 

Suddenly  the  old  man  stood  still.  A  young 
man  in  overcoat  and  fur  cap  was  coming  towards 
him.  Was  he  mistaken  ?  No ;  it  was  Einar. 

Norby    was    excited    already;    and   now   when 


142  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

Einar  came,  too,  perhaps  to  interfere,  he  felt 
inclined  to  give  the  boy  a  thrashing. 

They  both  stopped  within  a  few  steps  of  each 
other.  Einar  was  very  pale. 

"Is  that  you?"  said  the  old  man,  attempting  to 
laugh.  He  knew  that  people  could  see  them  from 
the  window. 

"Yes,  father!"  said  Einar,  as  he  dug  his  stick 
into  a  snow-drift,  "and  it  isn't  very  pleasant  to  be 
myself  just  now." 

At  this  the  old  man  laughed  scornfully,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "No,  of  course  not,"  he 
said.  "Is  a  hundred  and  fifty  krones  a  month 
too  little?  You  have  a  family  in  Christiania, 
perhaps  ?" 

Einar  pressed  his  lips  together,  and  his  voice 
shook  as  he  said,  looking  calmly  at  his  father: 
"I  wanted  to  follow  the  dictates  of  my  conscience, 
and  do  what  was  right." 

"Yes,  of  course !"  said  the  old  man,  coming  a 
step  nearer,  and  laughing  again.  "Does  any  one 
forbid  you  to  do  so?" 

"I  shall  have  to  go  in  and  save  the  innocent 
man,"  said  Einar,  "no  matter  what  it  costs  me." 
But  he  involuntarily  retreated  a  step,  and  gazed 
at  his  father  in  fear.  The  old  man  still  tried  to 
smile,  because  people  could  see  them  from  the  win- 
dows; but  he  suddenly  turned  pale. 

"Yes,  I  thought  so,"  he  said,  breathing  heavily ; 
"but  who  has  put  you  up  to  this?" 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  143 

At  this  Einar  flushed,  and  drew  a  step  nearer. 
"Father!"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  indignant; 
"you  must  tell  me  what  you  mean  by  that." 

The  old  man,  however,  resented  the  authorita- 
tive tone,  and  began  to  gesticulate,  while  he 
shouted :  "Go  in  and  give  evidence  then,  confound 
you !  Don't  stand  there  and  torture  your  father ! 
Go  at  once,  do  you  hear  ?" 

He  caught  his  breath  and  gesticulated  with  his 
arms,  but  no  more  words  came;  and  he  turned 
abruptly  and  tramped  away,  while  Einar  began 
mechanically  to  walk  towards  the  court-house. 
Suddenly  he  heard  his  name  called :  "Einar !"  He 
turned.  "Yes,  father?"  His  father  was  stand- 
ing looking  after  him,  but  made  a  sudden  move- 
ment with  his  hand.  "Nothing!"  he  said,  and 
went  on.  Pride  had  conquered. 

Einar  stood  upon  the  steps  of  the  court-house. 
There  were  a  few  steps  to  be  made.  "The  fact  is 
that  father  himself  is  the  best  proof  that  Wan- 
gen  is  innocent,"  he  thought.  "But  can  I?  Am 
I  cowardly  or  courageous?  All  I  have  to  do  is  to 
tell  the  truth  and  save  an  innocent  man.  Is  that 
so  dreadful?  Perhaps  it's  the  only  time  in  my 
life  that  a  brave  action  will  be  required  of  me. 
I  must  be  a  man !"  And  he  went  on  with  slower 
steps  into  the  passage,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHEN  Norby  left  Einar,  he  did  not  know  where 
he  went.  He  met  some  acquaintances,  and  had 
to  stop  and  shake  hands  with  them  and  chat, 
although  he  felt  inclined  to  throw  himself  upon 
the  ground  and  weep. 

"There's  no  lack  of  snow  this  winter,"  he  said, 
laughing  almost  convulsively  at  the  group  gath- 
ered about  him,  and  at  the  same  time  thinking: 
"Now  he  is  in  there  giving  evidence." 

Every  one  without  exception  spoke  to  him  with 
the  usual  deference,  and  gave  him  sympathetic 
glances ;  and  this  gave  him  fresh  courage.  "He's 
welcome  to  give  evidence,"  he  thought.  "But  we 
shall  see!" 

At  last  he  was  alone,  and  stood  at  the  window 
in  a  little  general  store.  Above  him  on  the  hill 
stood  the  court-house,  and  he  could  see  at  the  win- 
dow the  profile  of  a  head  with  a  hand  raised  to  the 
chin.  "Now  they're  enjoying  the  scandal,"  he 
thought.  "They  think  they've  caught  me  when 
they've  caught  my  boy ;  but  wait  a  bit." 

It  seemed  to  freeze  something  within  him.  This 
son,  upon  whom  he  had  spent  so  many  thousand 
krones,  but  who  suddenly  attacked  his  father  in 
this  way,  was  not  Norby's  son  any  longer.  There 
was  only  a  smart,  as  if  something  had  been 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  145 

cut  away,  and  it  made  him  set  his  teeth  hard. 

"They  are  mistaken.  If  I'm  not  man  enough  to 
overthrow  his  assertions,  I'm  not  what  I  thought 
I  was ;  for  now  it's  a  matter  of  life  and  death  in 
any  case."  He  could  not  help  laughing,  but  it 
was  a  cold,  hard  laugh;  for  the  thought  that  he 
was  going  to  disgrace  himself  and  his  son  by  hav- 
ing to  refute  his  evidence  in  court,  made  him  quite 
fierce.  "As  sure  as  I  live,  they  shall  regret  that 
they  took  the  boy  from  me." 

When  Einar  entered  the  court,  he  saw  at  a 
glance  that  the  witness-box  was  empty.  The  clerk 
was  dictating  something  to  be  entered  in  the  min- 
utes. The  witness's  place  was  waiting  for  him 
who  should  tell  the  truth.  It  seemed  to  beckon 
to  him. 

When  he  shut  the  door  behind  him,  the  little 
noise  made  him  start.  The  door  was  shut  now 
between  him  and  his  father  for  ever.  "I  can  never 
go  home  again,"  he  thought;  and  at  the  same 
moment  he  caught  sight  of  his  mother  among  the 
audience.  She  smiled  at  him.  She  was  flushed 
and  perspiring  with  the  heat.  "If  you  only  knew 
that  I  can  never  come  home  again!"  thought 
Einar,  as  she  made  room  for  him  beside  her;  and 
the  fact  that  she  sat  there  and  made  room  for 
him,  without  suspecting  why  he  had  come,  agitated 
him  greatly.  "When  she  hears  my  evidence,"  he 
thought,  "she'll  faint." 

It  must  be  done  now,  however,  now  or  never. 


146  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

He  felt  that  if  he  did  not  go  straight  at  it,  his 
courage  would  ebb,  and  he  would  collapse.  It  had 
cost  him  so  much  to  make  up  his  mind;  to  turn 
round  now  would  be  an  insult  to  himself.  He 
looked  across  once  more  at  his  mother,  as  if  to 
say:  "You  cannot  want  me  to  tell  anything  but 
the  truth.  I  tried  to  save  father  while  there  was 
time,  but  it  was  impossible." 

He  was  about  to  address  himself  to  the  clerk, 
when  Thora  of  Lidarende  and  the  pastor's  wife 
gave  him  a  friendly  nod,  and  he  had  to  nod  back 
again ;  and  his  mother  beckoned  to  him,  while  the 
two  other  ladies  helped  to  make  room  for  him. 
Should  he  go  there  for  a  moment?  He  very  much 
wanted  to  sit  down.  He  had  been  wandering 
about  for  hours  out  in  the  cold,  and  the  court  was 
hot  and  badly  ventilated,  and  he  felt  giddy  and 
the  blood  rushed  to  his  head.  His  mother  beck- 
oned again  and  smiled ;  and  before  he  quite  knew 
what  he  was  about,  he  was  sitting  beside  her.  The 
two  ladies  with  her  gave  his  hand  a  warm  pressure 
as  they  shook  hands  with  him. 

The  next  moment  his  mother  was  called  as  a 
witness.  The  clerk  looked  at  her  and  said:  "I 
thought  you  were  sitting  among  the  audience?" 

"Yes,  I  was,"  said  Fru  Norby. 

"But  that  is  not  allowed,"  said  the  clerk.  "You 
must  be  good  enough  to  remain  outside  when  you 
are  a  witness." 

Einar   had   a    strange    feeling    on    seeing  his 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  147 

mother  in  the  witness-box.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
standing  there  she  was  in  some  danger  or  other; 
and  when  the  clerk  administered  this  rebuke,  he 
felt  an  involuntary  agitation.  All  his  filial  in- 
stincts were  aroused  and  took  up  their  stand  beside 
her.  He  was  no  longer  capable  of  thought;  he 
only  felt.  After  strenuously  working  himself  up 
to  a  high  pitch  of  clearness  of  judgment  and 
truthful  endeavour,  he  now  suddenly  lost  his  bal- 
ance and  fell  into  a  strange  world  of  indistinct 
but  warm  impulses.  Far  off  a  star  beckoned  to 
him;  it  was  for  him  to  go  up  and  give  evidence. 
But  it  seemed  to  go  farther  and  farther  away. 
There  stood  his  mother,  looking  all  at  once  so  thin 
and  helpless.  The  clerk  had  offended  her.  And 
was  Einar  now  going  up  to  contradict  her  before 
all  these  people?  He  might  just  as  well  go  up 
and  knock  her  down.  He  grew  more  and  more 
afraid  that  something  would  happen  to  her  out 
there.  Nothing  must  happen  to  her! 

When  his  mother  had  finished,  she  went  out :  and 
Einar  had  to  follow  her  to  see  if  anything  was  the 
matter,  and  in  doing  so  forgot  his  overcoat,  which 
he  had  taken  off  and  placed  beside  him  on  the  bench. 

When  he  caught  her  up  near  the  baker's,  a 
sudden  resolution  came  to  him  to  leave  her,  for  he 
could  not  bear  this  any  longer.  He  was  not  equal 
to  the  task  of  concocting  any  explanation;  he 
only  said  good-bye  and  hurried  away. 

Sharp  hail-showers  had  taken  the  place  of  the 


148  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

snow-storm,  and  deluged  him  with  rolling  ice- 
pearls.  The  road  meandered  along  the  fjord  and 
on  to  the  station;  there  was  an  hour  before  the 
train  went  and  he  had  plenty  of  time,  but  he  hur- 
ried like  a  man  who  is  running  away. 

At  last  he  began  to  walk  more  slowly.  There 
was  a  voice  that  whispered  to  him:  "But  this 
inquiry  is  only  an  investigation  of  the  matter. 
It  will  be  time  enough  if  you  give  evidence  before 
the  jury."  But  he  stood  still,  as  if  the  thought 
were  something  that  he  could  knock  down.  "Con- 
found it!"  he  thought.  "This  is  just  as  cowardly, 
7  imagine  I  can  go  to  the  trial  by  jury?  I?  The 
coward !" 

He  had  wandered  backwards  and  forwards  in 
this  way  before  to-day,  now  determined  to  go 
away,  now  to  go  straight  to  the  inquiry  and  give 
evidence;  and  when  he  finally  approached  the 
court-house  with  firm  steps,  he  had  felt  glad  and 
proud  that  what  was  truest  and  bravest  in  him 
had  conquered. 

And  now?  He  could  not  go  home  any  more. 
Even  if  his  father  could  forgive  him,  he  would 
despise  this  sorry  hero;  and  as  son  at  Norby 
Farm,  he  had  betrayed  the  house  and  all  his  family 
just  as  much  as  if  he  had  not  been  too  cowardly 
to  put  his  resolve  into  action. 

He  stopped  and  looked  back.  There,  on  the 
white  snowy  surface  by  the  sound,  stood  the  court- 
house, enveloped  in  driving  showers.  In  Einar's 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  149 

eyes,  that  building  was  now  only  a  den  of  injus- 
tice, in  which  false  accusations  were  made  and 
false  evidence  given,  and  where  an  innocent  man 
was  condemned,  and  had  his  life  ruined.  And  he 
who  could  save  him  ?  He  fled !  He  was  the  great- 
est coward  of  them  all. 

Einar  suddenly  felt  it  was  quite  impossible  for 
him  to  go  back  to  town  and  be  the  old  Einar 
Norby.  He  could  never  look  his  friends  in  the 
face.  He  would  have  to  live  with  shame  in  his 
heart,  and  always  bow  his  head  and  keep  silence 
when  mention  was  made  of  honesty  and  truth  in 
the  world.  Could  he  ever  have  another  happy 
day  if  Wangen  were  condemned? 

No,  he  could  not  walk  any  farther  towards  the 
station;  his  feet  refused  to  carry  him.  At  last 
he  sat  down  upon  a  stone  by  the  wayside.  He 
had  not  yet  noticed  that  he  had  forgotten  his 
overcoat. 

An  hour  later  he  was  still  sitting  there,  with 
his  head  in  his  hands.  He  was  roused  by  the  sound 
of  sledge-bells.  Two  men  drove  past  in  a  double 
sledge,  laughing  and  talking  about  the  inquiry. 
Something  must  have  happened.  But  Einar  sat 
on.  Should  he  turn  back?  he  thought;  perhaps 
there  was  still  time.  And  then  he  suddenly  burst 
into  a  laugh.  That  this  desire  to  do  something 
great  could  still  raise  its  head  made  him  laugh 
scornfully  and  bitterly;  and  as  he  laughed  he 
coughed. 


150  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

When  Soren  Kvikne  at  last  came  into  the  wit- 
ness-box, he  put  himself  into  an  important  atti- 
tude, and  thrust  his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets; 
for  he  knew  now  that  the  whole  thing  depended 
upon  him.  He  declared  that  while  he  worked  at 
Haarstad's,  Haarstad  had  once  told  him  that  he 
had  seen  Norby  put  his  name  to  a  paper  for  Wan- 
gen,  and  that  he  himself  had  signed  as  witness. 

There  was  a  great  sensation  in  the  court.  This 
was  an  acquittal  for  Wangen. 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  asked  the  clerk,  and 
looked  at  the  farm-labourer. 

"I  remember  it  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday,"  said 
Soren.  "We  were  painting  a  cariole,  what's  more, 
when  he  told  me." 

The  clerk  now  recollected  that  Norby  wished  to 
give  evidence  after  this  man,  and  as  he  scented 
something  interesting,  he  determined  to  confront 
the  two  witnesses. 

Norby  had  freshened  up  since  Marit  had  told 
him  of  Einar's  departure;  and  now  his  great 
moment  had  come  at  last. 

When  he  stood  in  the  witness-box  with  Soren 
Kvikne,  he  first  looked  round.  Yes,  Herlufsen  was 
in  court.  He  then  took  out  his  document,  and 
asked  the  clerk  if  he  might  read  it  aloud. 

"Certainly,"  said  the  clerk,  a  little  uncertainly, 
involuntarily  extending  his  hand  for  the  paper. 

Norby  read:  "I,  Jorgen  Haarstad's  widow, 
hereby  declare  upon  my  honour  that  Soren  Kvikne 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  151 

left  our  service  six  months  before  the  date  of  the 
signature  of  Wangen's  document.  As  he  then 
went  into  service  for  some  time  in  another  parish, 
it  is  impossible  that  my  husband  can  have  spoken 
to  him  about  this  matter  before  he  died." 

The  clerk  now  took  the  document  and  ran  his 
eye  over  it.  The  audience  had  risen  in  their 
excitement,  and  the  accused  had  also  risen  and 
had  to  lean  against  the  wall  for  support. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  that?"  asked  the 
clerk,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  Soren  Kvikne.  Norby 
had  turned  to  look  at  Mads  Herlufsen.  "That's 
one  for  you !"  he  thought,  thinking  too  that  Her- 
lufsen looked  as  if  he  had  got  the  toothache. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  that?"  repeated  the 
clerk,  as  Soren  Kvikne  stood  staring  at  his  boots. 
"You  said  you  were  painting  a  cariole  when  he 
told  you  about  it ;  but  it  appears  that  your  mem- 
ory is  at  fault.  How  do  you  explain  this?" 

But  Soren  was  by  no  means  equal  to  a  new 
explanation,  so  he  was  allowed  to  go. 

When  Norby  and  Marit  were  sitting  in  the 
sledge  in  the  twilight  ready  to  drive  home,  a  num- 
ber of  people  crowded  about  them,  and  gave  them 
quite  an  ovation.  Norby  had  had  his  case  in  such 
first-rate  order  that  all  Wangen's  witnesses  had 
only  provoked  laughter. 

As  the  old  man  took  up  the  reins,  Wangen 
chanced  to  pass.  He  looked  broken  down ;  and  as 
he  caught  sight  of  his  adversary,  he  suddenly 


152  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

came  nearer  and  shook  his  fist  at  him.  "You 
wait !"  he  cried,  his  features  distorted  with  anger. 
"You  scoundrel!  You  think  you've  won  to-day, 
but  wait  a  little!  You  shall  go  to  prison,  both 
you  and  the  woman  sitting  beside  you!"  He 
made  a  sudden  dash  forward  in  the  snow  as  if  to 
attack  them;  but  two  men  caught  him  by  the 
collar  and  drew  him  away,  although  he  resisted 
strenuously. 

"Ah,  that  brandy !"  said  an  old  man,  shaking 
his  head  after  him.  "I  saw  that  there  consul  had 
him  into  the  hotel  and  stood  treat." 

"The  best  thing  would  be  for  the  bailiff  to  take 
him  in  charge  at  once,"  said  another,  looking  sym- 
pathetically at  Norby. 

Norby  laughed,  cracked  his  whip  and  drove  off, 
tired.  There  had  been  so  much  excitement  to- 
day. But  he  seemed  to  be  sitting  all  the  time 
reading  aloud  that  declaration  and  seeing  Herluf- 
sen's  face.  He  should  never  forget  it  as  long  as 
he  lived. 

As  they  turned  into  the  yard  at  Norby,  Inge- 
borg  came  out  on  to  the  steps,  and  said  in  a 
frightened  voice:  "Einar!" 

"Einar?"  said  Marit,  who  was  the  first  to  get 
out  of  the  sledge.  "He's  gone  back  to  town, 
hasn't  he?" 

"They  brought  him  here  in  a  sledge,"  said  Inge- 
borg.  "I've  telephoned  for  the  doctor." 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  BRIGHT  moon  shone  out  from  among  floating, 
silvery  clouds,  over  snowy  fields  and  forests  in  the 
dead  of  night.  The  buildings  and  the  flagstaff  at 
Norby  cast  shadows  upon  the  sparkling  snow. 
The  sledges  standing  in  the  yard  were  turned  up 
on  their  edge,  so  as  not  to  freeze  under  their  run- 
ners. A  solitary  dog  was  running  round  the 
house,  giving  short  barks  because  no  one  let  it  in, 
although  there  was  a  light  burning  in  one  of  the 
attic  windows. 

During  the  night,  one  of  the  old  men  in  the 
pensioners'  house  got  out  of  bed  and  crept  to  the 
window  in  his  slippers.  He  stood  there  with  the 
moon  shining  in  his  face,  and  looked  across  at  the 
house.  The  other  farm-labourer  was  also  awake, 
and  after  yawning  asked : 

"I  suppose  there's  a  light  in  Einar's  window, 
isn't  there?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  man  at  the  window,  hunching 
his  shoulders  because  he  felt  cold.  "I  wonder," 
he  continued,  "whether  there  is  any  change." 

The  dairymaid  could  now  be  heard  turning 
over  in  bed  in  her  little  room,  and  she  murmured : 
"The  dog  has  howled  so  dreadfully  all  night,  and 
that  doesn't  mean  anything  good." 

There  was  a  pause.     The  old  man  at  the  win- 


154  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

dow  continued  to  stand  there  looking  out  into  the 
silvery  night  and  across  at  the  lighted  window  in 
the  big  house. 

"I  heard  owls  last  night,"  said  the  blind  man 
suddenly  from  his  bed,  and  yawned.  "And  I've 
not  heard  an  owl  here  since  old  Norby  died." 

"Ah,  well,  Einar's  always  been  a  good  lad," 
said  the  dairymaid.  "God  have  mercy  upon  his 
soul !"  There  was  another  pause. 

"It  seems  to  me  there's  some  one  walking  up 
and  down  in  the  big  drawing-room,"  said  the  old 
man  at  the  window.  The  next  moment  he  hurried 
into  bed  as  if  he  were  frightened.  After  a  little, 
the  blind  man  said: 

"Wasn't  it  in  the  big  drawing-room  that  old 
Norby's  ghost  used  to  be  seen?" 

"If  there's  any  one  there  to-night,"  said  a 
voice  from  the  little  room,  "we  know  very  well 
what'll  happen." 

The  moon  drew  two  windows  right  across  the 
floor.  The  big  clock  on  the  wall  struck  two,  and 
the  old  men  turned  over  and  drew  the  coverlet 
over  their  heads. 

The  big  drawing-room  lay  between  Einar's 
room  and  that  in  which  the  servants  slept.  A 
figure  was  really  walking  up  and  down  there  in 
noiseless  felt  slippers.  The  moon  sent  a  flood  of 
light  across  the  floor,  and  the  frost-ferns  upon 
the  window-panes  were  flames  of  silver.  But  the 
man  walking  about  there  kept  in  the  shade.  At 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  155 

last  he  paused  at  the  window,  and  looked  out.  It 
was  very  quiet  out  there  in  the  night.  The  stars 
twinkled  among  the  shining  clouds,  and  lower 
down  above  the  hills  hung  red  and  black  banks 
of  clouds,  looking  like  some  strange,  variegated 
land.  The  old  man  wore  his  overcoat,  and  his 
hands  were  thrust  deep  into  his  pockets. 

The  door  opened,  and  Ingeborg  entered  with  a 
candle  in  her  hand. 

"How  is  he?"  asked  the  old  man,  quietly. 

"Won't  you  come  in,  father?" 

"Is  it  Einar  who  wants  me?" 

"No,  mother.     He's  spitting  blood  again." 

But  the  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
answered : 

"They  often  do  that  in  inflammation  of  the 
lungs.  Just  you  go  back  and  take  it  quietly. 
He's  so  young  and  strong,  he'll  get  over  it  all 
right." 

Ingeborg  went  quietly  out,  and  the  old  man 
began  to  pace  the  floor  again.  There  was  no 
use  in  fetching  the  doctor  again;  the  complaint 
must  take  its  course.  But  the  old  man  felt  he 
must  be  here  because  he  could  not  sleep,  and 
because  the  women  wanted  to  have  him  at  hand. 

"Oh  dear !"  he  thought.  "I  do  hope  Einar  will 
pull  through!"  But  the  terrible  thing  was  that 
sometimes  he  caught  himself  wishing  that  he 
would  not  pull  through.  Thoughts  such  as  these 
buzzed  about  like  stinging  wasps  on  the  surface 


156  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

of  his  mind.  He  was  sometimes  frightened,  and 
sometimes  would  have  liked  to  have  given  himself 
a  thrashing;  but  the  wasps  came  again.  So  low 
had  he  been  dragged  down  in  this  confounded 
matter  with  Wangen. 

Why  of  course  he  forgave  the  boy !  He  would 
never  refer  to  the  matter  again,  if  the  boy  recov- 
ered. But — but — this  illness  had  followed  so  close 
upon  his  anger;  and  it  would  take  something  to 
sweep  away  every  little  sting. 

He  paused  again  at  the  window,  and  looked  out 
into  the  bright  night.  The  wind  was  rising  now 
towards  morning,  and  began  to  raise  snow-clouds 
away  over  the  hills. 

Oh,  how  pleasant  life  would  be,  when  this  nasty 
case  was  done  with,  and  he  could  be  the  old 
Norby  once  more !  Here  he  lived  on  his  farm,  and 
only  wanted  to  be  left  in  peace;  but  was  he 
allowed  to?  No;  they  dragged  him  into  this 
foolery  with  Wangen — wanted  him  to  support 
such  swindles  as  these  brickfields;  and  when  he 
wanted  to  get  out  of  it,  they  threatened  him  with 
imprisonment.  Then  they  suborned  witnesses. 
And  then  they  set  the  son  up  against  his  father. 
And  why  was  Einar  ill?  If  they  hadn't  per- 
suaded him  to  come  to  this  inquiry  he  would  have 
been  in  town  now  reading  his  books,  instead  of 
going  down  there  on  a  winter's  day  without  his 
overcoat,  and  getting  inflammation  of  the  lungs. 
Supposing  he  died!  It  would  be  the  fault  of 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  157 

those  who  had  persuaded  him;  and  they  would 
be  sure  to  exult  if  Norby  lost  this  son  too,  for 
they  had  succeeded  in  causing  him  to  lose  his 
eldest.  His  lips  began  to  quiver  as  he  stood  in 
the  moonlight.  Would  they  succeed?  Would 
they  have  that  pleasure?  And  he  turned  sud- 
denly, and  walked  towards  the  door.  "I'll  go  for 
the  doctor  all  the  same,"  he  thought;  but  then 
he  remembered  that  the  doctor  had  promised  to 
come  early  in  the  morning,  and  he  turned  back 
to  the  window,  and  stood  gazing  out  at  the  red 
and  black  banks  of  cloud  in  the  north. 

Supposing  Einar  died  and  went  over  there. 
There  he  would  stand  for  ever,  always  looking  at 
him  as  he  had  done  down  at  the  court-house,  when 
he  dug  his  stick  into  a  snow-drift.  "I  want  to 
follow  my  conscience."  Would  he  not  hear  those 
words  night  and  day,  and  see  that  form,  as  long 
as  ever  he  lived?  Always  this  accusation  from 
the  dead.  He  might  travel  all  over  the  world 
and  collect  evidence  and  declarations  to  disprove 
it,  but  it  would  be  of  no  use. 

The  old  man  pressed  his  lips  together  again. 
No,  the  boy  must  be  kept  alive.  Better  that  he 
should  go  to  the  trial  and  give  evidence  against 
him,  than  die  and  witness  against  him  everlast- 
ingly. 

The  wind  was  rising.  It  howled  round  the 
corners  of  the  house  and  in  the  roof,  and  up 
under  the  icicle-fringed  eaves.  In  the  east  a  grey 


158  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

band  of  light  began  to  show  above  the  hills,  but 
the  moon  still  spread  her  silvery  veil  over  land 
and  water. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sound  of  sledge-bells 
going  down  the  avenue.  It  was  the  old  man,  in 
his  fur  coat  with  the  collar  turned  up,  hastening 
away  to  fetch  the  doctor.  Einar  must  be  kept 
alive.  The  poor  dog,  which  had  not  been  let 
in,  uttered  a  joyful  bark  at  sight  of  the  driver, 
and  bounded  through  the  snow  to  join  him. 

It  was  still  long  before  any  one  at  the  farm 
got  up;  only  the  pensioners  in  the  old  cottage 
began  to  yawn  in  their  sleep.  This  they  began 
to  do  an  hour  before  they  woke,  and  they  always 
woke  at  four,  from  long  habit.  The  dairymaid 
always  had  it  in  her  mind  that  she  had  to  get 
up  to  go  to  the  cows  as  she  did  fifteen  years  ago ; 
and  the  men  dreamed  of  getting  up  and  going  to 
the  forest  as  they  had  so  often  done  in  the  early 
winter  mornings  long  ago.  The  old  habit  had 
now  become  regular  dreams.  Perhaps  when  these 
old  people  lie  in  the  churchyard  they  will  dream 
the  same  things  as  morning  approaches. 


PART  III 
CHAPTER  I 

ON  the  morning  after  the  inquiry,  Fru  Wangen 
rose  at  six,  as  she  was  now  without  a  servant, 
and  had  to  do  the  washing  that  day.  She  had 
scarcely  dressed  herself,  however,  before  she  was 
obliged  to  sit  down.  She  felt  so  tired  and  worn 
out,  for  she  had  been  wakened  not  only  by  the 
children,  but  also  by  Wangen  several  times  in 
the  night,  and  even  when  at  last  he  fell  asleep,  he 
kept  crying  out  in  his  sleep. 

At  length  she  rose  to  go  down,  but  stood  for 
a  little  while  with  the  lamp  in  her  hand,  and  let 
the  light  fall  upon  him.  He  lay  curled  up,  his 
face  buried  in  the  pillow.  Perhaps  he  was  dream- 
ing something  horrible  even  now. 

She  stole  quietly  out,  so  as  not  to  wake  any 
of  them.  In  the  rooms  downstairs  the  windows 
were  thick  with  ice;  and  while  she  knelt  and 
lighted  the  fires,  she  often  had  to  stop  to  breathe 
upon  her  fingers. 

At  a  little  past  eight  she  went  upstairs  to 
surprise  him  with  a  cup  of  coffee  before  he  got 
up;  but  while  she  was  on  the  stairs  she  heard 
him  calling  her,  although  he  might  have  known 
he  would  wake  the  children. 


160  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  she  said,  as  she 
entered.  "Do  you  want  to  have  them  wake 
up?" 

He  sat  up  in  bed.  "Do  you  know,  Karen," 
he  said,  "there  is  no  doubt  that  that  Soren 
Kvikne,  who  came  and  offered  to  give  evidence, 
was  sent!" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  said,  standing  still 
with  the  tray  in  her  hand. 

"Can  you  tell  me  what  interest  that  poor  man 
could  have  in  going  and  giving  false  evidence  that 
was  so  easy  to  disprove?" 

"No,  no?"  She  still  stood  there,  and  hardly 
dared  to  offer  him  the  coffee. 

"No,  Karen,"  he  said;  "the  fact  is  that  Norby 
had  bought  him.  Herlufsen  of  Rud,  who  once 
pretended  he  was  on  my  side,  is  in  the  ring  too,  as 
I  might  have  known  beforehand.  And  he  lent  this 
man  of  his  in  order  to  set  this  trap  for  me.  Upon 
my  word  it  was  well  calculated.  It  made  me 
ridiculous,  and  increased  people's  suspicion.  It 
was  as  diabolical  as  it  could  be!" 

"Are  you  quite  sure  now,  Henry?" 

"Sure?"  He  became  still  more  angry.  "Sure? 
Good  heavens !" 

"Well,  because  I  can't  imagine  how  people  can 
be  so  wicked." 

"No,  you  can't  imagine,  although  you  have  to 
see  it  every  blessed  day.  I  begin  to  think  you'd 
rather  it  were  I  that  was  wicked." 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  161 

"Will  you  have  some  coffee?"  she  asked,  hand- 
ing him  the  tray. 

While  he  sat  with  the  tray  in  front  of  him  on 
the  counterpane,  Fru  Wangen  drew  up  the  blinds 
to  let  in  the  wealth  of  snow-light  from  the  bright 
winter's  morning.  Shortly  after  she  turned  to 
him  saying:  "I  got  such  a  fright  this  morning." 

"You  got  a  fright  ?"  he  said,  as  he  gulped  down 
his  coffee. 

"Yes.  There  was  a  man  sitting  on  the  steps 
when  I  opened  the  door;  and  I  couldn't  help 
being  frightened,  for  it  was  the  tailor." 

"What?"  he  cried,  putting  down  the  cup. 

"He  must  be  mad.  He's  still  sitting  there.  He 
said  he  would  wait  until  you  came  down." 

"Can't  you  get  rid  of  the  fellow?"  he  said 
angrily. 

"No.  He  said  he'd  sit  there  now  until  you 
came.  I'm  at  my  wits'  end!" 

It  was  the  old  tailor,  who  had  lost  by  the  bank- 
ruptcy all  his  savings,  upon  which  Wangen  had 
promised  him  such  good  interest.  He  came  almost 
every  day  and  wanted  to  speak  to  Wangen;  but 
the  latter  was  afraid  of  him,  because  his  eyes 
had  latterly  acquired  such  a  wild  expression. 

It  was  not  this  tailor  only  who  was  constantly 
reminding  him  of  the  sad  consequences  of  his 
failure.  He  received  despairing  letters,  begging 
him  for  only  a  third  of  the  money  that  had  been 
entrusted  to  him ;  and  letters  that  threatened  and 


162  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

cursed  him.  People  were  continually  coming  to 
the  house  with  tears  and  threats.  It  was  enough 
to  make  one  mad. 

These  people  still  believed  that  he  and  no  other 
was  to  blame  for  the  disaster.  And  that  was  not 
the  worst;  for  in  Wangen's  inner  consciousness, 
dark  arms  were  extended,  and  he  had  to  hasten  to 
think  of  something  else. 

"Here!"  he  said,  holding  out  the  tray  to  her. 

"But  you  haven't  finished  your  coffee !"  she  said 
in  surprise. 

He  lay  down  again  with  his  hands  under  his 
head. 

"No,"  he  said;  "you  take  one's  appetite  away, 
Karen." 

"I  do?" 

"Well,  yes,  to  tell  the  truth.  I  can't  think  what 
pleasure  you  can  have  in  telling  me  this  about 
the  tailor.  I  think  you  ought  rather  to  ask  him 
to  go  to  Norby."  And  he  breathed  hard,  as  if 
something  exceedingly  painful  were  working  in 
him. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  sighing;  and  tak- 
ing the  tray,  she  left  the  room. 

Since  the  inquiry  Wangen  had  lived  as  if  in  a 
fever.  His  tactics  for  asserting  his  innocence, 
namely,  trying  to  prove  that  the  forgery  was 
only  a  link  in  a  chain  of  conspiracies  against  his 
business,  had  turned  out  miserably.  It  had  only 
increased  people's  suspicion  of  him.  It  did  not, 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  163 

however,  on  that  account  occur  to  him  that  he 
had  chosen  a  wrong  method  of  procedure,  but 
only  worked  his  suspicion  up  to  greater  certainty. 
The  belief  in  this  conspiracy  was  just  what  had 
given  him  a  good  conscience  in  the  midst  of  the 
troubles  after  his  failure. 

The  trial,  which  was  either  to  condemn  or 
acquit  him,  was  approaching  inexorably.  It  was 
not  the  fear  of  being  found  guilty  of  forgery 
that  made  Wangen  ill  with  anxiety  as  to  the 
result,  for  of  that  he  could  acquit  himself;  but 
the  dread  he  felt  was  of  having  his  illusion  con- 
cerning the  conspiracy  torn  to  pieces,  and  thus 
being  obliged  to  condemn  himself.  Moreover, 
because  this  belief  in  the  malice  of  his  enemies 
made  him  feel  good,  it  seemed  like  treachery  in 
his  wife  when  she  defended  them.  He  grew  angry, 
and  felt  inclined  to  fly  at  her;  she  wanted  to 
take  away  from  him  the  plank  with  which  he  kept 
himself  up. 

He  also  had  a  feeling  that  it  was  only  on  the 
basis  of  this  conspiracy  that  he  had  any  right  to 
make  the  working-men  his  brothers  in  misfortune ; 
so  her  slightest  word  in  defence  of  Norby  seemed 
an  attempt  to  rob  himself  of  a  virtue,  a  strength, 
which  the  homage  of  the  working-men  gave  him. 

When  at  last  he  came  downstairs  that  morning 
the  rooms  felt  very  warm  and  comfortable.  "Has 
the  tailor  gone?"  he  asked  almost  anxiously. 

"Yes,"  she  answered — she  was  standing  in  the 


164  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

kitchen,  rinsing  clothes — "I  managed  to  get  rid 
of  him  at  last." 

When  he  had  finished  breakfast,  he  sat  down 
to  the  only  work  he  did  at  that  time,  namely, 
writing  articles  for  a  labour-paper.  The  title  to- 
day was  "The  Experiences  of  a  Factory-Owner 
with  Regard  to  the  Eight-hours  Working-Day." 

His  recollections  on  this  subject  acquired  a 
wonderful  golden  radiance  from  the  very  fact  of 
his  clinging  to  the  belief  that  the  cause  of  his 
ruin  lay  neither  in  himself  nor  in  any  thoughtless 
reform.  It  was  an  ideal  that  he  felt  an  affection 
for,  and  he  found  a  comfort  in  glorifying  it, 
because  it  acquitted  him  while  at  the  same  time 
it  cast  a  shadow  upon  his  enemies. 

As  he  sat  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  becoming 
warmer  and  warmer  as  he  wrote,  the  kitchen  door 
opened  and  Fru  Wangen  entered  with  her  sleeves 
rolled  up. 

"Henry,  dear,"  she  said;  "are  you  going  to 
let  another  day  go  by  without  seeing  about  a 
house?" 

"I've  told  you,"  he  said,  a  little  irritated  at  the 
interruption,  "that  it's  no  good  looking  for  a 
house  as  long  as  I  have  this  hanging  over  me." 
And  he  went  on  writing,  when  she  continued: 

"But  would  you  rather  be  turned  out?  Have 
you  forgotten  that  the  auction  is  to  be  here  next 
week?" 

He  threw  his  pencil  across  the  table.     Latterly 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  165 

she  seemed  always  to  be  having  a  suspicion  that 
he  was  doing  something  wrong,  and  must  there- 
fore come  and  interfere. 

"Can't  you  go  then  and  look  for  one,  instead 
of  coming  everlastingly  and  interrupting  me?" 
he  said. 

"I  didn't  know  it  was  anything  so  important, 
Henry.  And  if  you're  writing  something  anony- 
mous about  Norby  or  others  that  you  suspect, 
please  don't  go  on  with  it!  I'm  sure  you'll  only 
lose  by  it." 

"It  seems  as  if  you  couldn't  imagine  my  writ- 
ing anything  but  what  was  mean.  That's  a  nice 
thing  to  hear,  Karen." 

She  stood  a  few  moments  looking  at  him,  and 
then  went  quietly  out  into  the  kitchen,  and  went 
on  rinsing  children's  clothes  in  a  tub.  She  found 
it  painful  to  live  in  these  luxurious  surroundings 
when  none  of  it  was  theirs  any  longer,  and  when 
they  never  knew  for  certain  at  dinner  whether 
there  would  be  anything  for  supper  or  not.  But 
to  go  into  the  parish — she — and  beg  for  a  roof 
over  their  heads,  was  the  very  last  humiliation 
she  would  take  upon  herself;  for  this  was  just 
what  so  many  people  had  prophesied  when  she 
married  him.  But  why  did  he  not  go,  when  he 
always  had  plenty  of  time?  Why  could  he  not 
save  her  a  little?  These  were  the  thoughts  that 
had  of  late  made  Fru  Wangen  so  bitter. 

Wangen    succeeded    in    recovering    his    happy 


166  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

mood,  and  had  got  on  a  long  way  with  his  article, 
when  his  wife  came  in  once  more  and  disturbed 
him.  This  time  she  had  their  two-year-old  little 
girl  with  her. 

"You  must  forgive  me,  Henry,"  she  said,  "but 
you  haven't  chopped  the  wood  I  asked  you  for; 
and  now  you  must  take  care  of  the  child  while 
I  go  out  and  do  it  myself." 

He  raised  his  head  and  looked  straight  before 
him  for  a  moment.  Then  he  sighed  deeply.  She 
saw  that  he  had  something  to  say,  and  stood  wait- 
ing with  anxious  eyes. 

"Oh,  dear!"  he  groaned. 

"Do  I  bother  you  so  dreadfully,  Henry?" 

"I  thought  you  would  help  me  a  little  just  now, 
Karen;  but  I  believe  even  if  people  came  here 
and  killed  me,  you  would  go  out  and  in  just  as 
calmly,  cook  and  wash,  think  of  house-rent,  and 
above  all  not  forget  to  chop  wood." 

"It  must  be  done,  Henry.  It's  not  my  fault 
that  I  haven't  a  servant  now." 

At  this  he  rose  to  his  feet  in  great  excitement. 

"Are  you  beginning  with  that  again?  As  sure 
as  I  live,  I  shall  try  to  let  you  have  back  your 
money." 

She  drew  back  as  if  she  had  been  struck  in  the 
face,  and  then  she  too  grew  angry. 

"No,  really!"  she  cried.  "I  won't  bear  that! 
I  shall  soon  begin  to  wish  that  you  were  guilty, 
Henry;  for  to  tell  the  truth,  you  become  more 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  167 

and  more  unbearable  because  of  this  innocence." 

"What  do  you  say,  Karen?"  he  exclaimed, 
turning  pale  and  biting  his  lip. 

"You  heard  well  enough!"  she  said,  taking  the 
child  in  her  arms  and  leaving  the  room.  In  a 
little  while  he  heard  the  sound  of  wood-chopping 
in  the  wood-shed. 

"It  won't  do  her  any  harm  to  chop  a  few  sticks 
of  firewood,"  he  thought;  "for  she  takes  every- 
thing else  quietly  enough,  goodness  knows!  I 
wonder  if  they  won't  succeed  in  enticing  her  away 
from  me  some  day." 

While  Fru  Wangen  chopped  wood,  she  had  to 
keep  a  watchful  eye  upon  the  child,  to  whom  she 
had  given  some  twigs  to  play  with.  It  was  such 
a  shame  that  on  account  of  this  innocence,  he  no 
longer  bestowed  a  thought  upon  either  her  or 
the  children.  It  was  as  if  she  were  not  allowed 
to  think  about  anything  but  his  innocence,  not 
allowed  to  feel  anything  but  pity  for  him.  It 
was  not  five  weeks  since  they  had  laid  a  little 
baby  in  the  grave;  but  he  never  mentioned  it, 
and  would  hardly  allow  her  to  do  so  either.  But 
it  was  his  continual  suspicion  that  began  to  weary 
her  most  of  all.  It  made  the  whole  world  so 
exceedingly  sad  and  ugly;  and  the  worst  of  it 
was  that  she  involuntarily  began  to  be  infected 
by  it,  like  a  disease  for  which  she  felt  disgust, 
and  which  she  would  like  to  shake  off. 

And  while  he  was  resorting  to  more  and  more 


168  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

ignoble  means  for  defending  this  innocence,  she 
thought  he  grew  a  worse  man.  He  oftener  came 
home  drunk  than  he  had  ever  done  before ;  he  was 
churlish  and  brooked  no  contradiction.  It  was 
as  if  this  innocence  not  only  acquitted  him  of  all 
the  evil  he  had  ever  done,  but  it  also  gave  him 
the  right  to  do  anything  he  liked,  both  now  and 
in  the  future. 

When  at  last  Fru  Wangen  came  in  again,  he 
was  walking  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Karen,"  he  said,  "can  you  blame  me  for 
expecting  that  you  will  devote  yourself  a  little 
at  any  rate  to  me  just  now?" 

"But  what  is  it  you  want  me  to  do,  Henry? 
I'm  toiling  from  morning  to  night." 

"Yes,  you're  toiling;  but  you  might  toil  a 
little  less.  Couldn't  you  let  my  aunt  have  the 
children  for  a  time?  You  know  she  would  like 
to,  and  you  could  be  sure " 

"Do  you  really  want  to  send  all  three  of  them 
away,  Henry?" 

He  stopped.  "Would  that  be  such  a  dreadful 
thing?" 

"No,  perhaps  not  for  you,"  she  said,  and  went 
into  the  kitchen  again. 

It  was  near  the  middle  of  April,  and  the  spring 
had  begun  to  appear.  One  day  the  sun  was 
shining  warm  upon  the  bare  fields  when  Fru  Wan- 
gen  stood  on  the  verandah  looking  out.  The 
river  was  rushing  by,  yellow  and  foaming,  often 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  169 

hidden  by  alder  bushes  that  were  beginning  to 
show  green  buds.  To  the  right  lay  the  shining 
lake,  reflecting  soft,  bright  clouds. 

"Let  me  see,  mamma!"  cried  the  two  little 
girls,  as  they  hung  on  to  her  skirts,  both  trying 
to  climb  up  and  see. 

At  that  moment  she  heard  a  well-known  cough 
down  by  the  garden  gate.  It  was  her  father.  It 
was  always  painful  now  when  he  came,  and  when 
he  came  on  to  the  verandah  breathing  hard,  she 
was  sitting  in  the  drawing-room  with  her  sewing. 
He  pretended  not  to  see  that  she  rose  and  held 
out  her  hand.  The  two  little  girls,  who  had  run 
up  to  their  grandfather,  were  also  perplexed  at 
his  pushing  them  away  as  he  made  his  way  to  a 
comfortable  chair  and  sank  into  it.  He  was 
breathing  hard,  and  placed  his  stick  between  his 
knees,  resting  his  trembling  hands  upon  the 
handle. 

"Isn't  he  at  home  to-day  either?"  he  asked  at 
length. 

"No,  father." 

"He  used  always  to  be  at  home  before,  ha,  ha !" 

The  old  man  was  over  seventy,  but  was  a  very 
giant.  His  long  white  hair,  thick,  yellowish 
beard  beneath  his  chin,  and  red,  watery  eyes, 
gave  him  a  patriarchal  appearance.  He  was 
dressed  in  black  frieze,  with  silver  buttons  on  his 
waistcoat,  of  which  the  lowest  three  were  left 
unfastened  to  allow  for  his  corpulence. 


170  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

"How  are  you,  father?" 

"I?  Grand!  We're  going  to  have  an  auction 
at  home — sell  every  mortal  thing;  and  your 
brother's  going  to  America,  and  I  shall  have 
nothing  to  live  on,  and  must  choose  between  going 
with  him  or  to  the  workhouse." 

"Father!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  whisper,  her  eyes 
fixed  on  him. 

The  old  man  laughed  with  his  lips  compressed 
and  his  blue-red  hands  trembling  still  more  upon 
the  handle  of  his  stick.  His  head  shook  too  upon 
his  thin  neck. 

"Is  he  holding  a  meeting  for  the  work-people  to- 
day again  ?"  asked  the  old  man  with  a  bitter  smile. 

"No,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice. 

"It's  so  strange  to  us  old  fogies,  Karen,  that\ 

Che  worse  people  are  themselves,  the  more  they/ 
eel  called  upon  to  make  others  better.     Can  you 
tell  me  what  he  has  to  say  to  those  vagabonds — 
he,   the   man   who   has   cheated   them   out   of   so 
much  pay?" 

She  did  not  reply,  but  sighed. 
"And     those      'working-men' — yes.        They're 
/  amusing  too.     You  may  cheat  them  as  much  you" 
like,  if  only  you  provide  them  lectures  to  listen 
to.     Never  mind  food  and  clothes,  if  only  they 
can  have  bits  of  paper  to  go  about  with  and  wave. 
Yes,  it  is  strange  in  these  days." 

"You  don't  think  of  going  to  America  then, 
father?" 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  171 

"No,  not  if  he  pays  me  back  the  last  ten  thou- 
sand krones ;  for  he  said  he  wanted  them  only  for 
a  fortnight."  The  old  man  laughed  again. 

"You  can  be  quite  sure  he  said  it  in  good  faith, 
father." 

"Good  faith!  Yes,  of  course!  And  this  good 
faith  is  now  driving  us  out  of  house  and  home. 
That  was  good  faith  indeed!" 

Fru  Wangen  again  closed  her  lips  and  kept 
silence. 

The  old  man  passed  his  hand  across  his  mouth. 

"But  I  want  something  in  return.  You  must 
leave  him,  Karen,  both  you  and  the  children ;  for 
if  I  were  to  go  to  America,  I  should  die  in  the 
middle  of  the  Atlantic.  Now  I  might  perhaps  get 
a  living  out  of  the  farm  all  the  same.  But  do 
you  imagine  that  I'll  live  there  and  see  strangers 
managing  the  farm,  if  none  of  my  own  family  are 
with  me?  You  must  live  with  me;  do  you  hear, 
Karen?"  And  he  fixed  his  red  eyes  upon  her. 

Fru  Wangen  looked  at  him  quite  helplessly,  but 
after  a  little  shook  her  head;  and  as  so  often 
before,  the  old  man  went  away  in  a  rage,  threat- 
ening that  he  would  never  set  his  foot  there  again. 
But  in  a  little  while  she  heard  his  voice  in  the 
garden,  and  going  on  to  the  verandah,  she  saw 
him  standing  at  the  garden  gate  looking  back, 
with  trembling  hands  on  the  handle  of  his 
stick. 

"You've  thought  over  your  answer,  Karen?"  he 


172  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

cried.  "For  it's  the  last  time  I  shall  ask  anything 
of  you." 

She  could  not  answer,  but  made  a  helpless 
motion  with  her  hands  and  went  in,  where  she 
sank  upon  a  sofa  and  began  to  sob.  But  leave 
Wangen?  No,  people  would  be  right  then! 

When  Wangen  came  home  he  told  her  that  the 
workmen  had  determined  on  a  demonstration  on 
the  first  of  May,  and  that  he  had  a  suspicion 
that  they  intended  going  to  Norby  Farm. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  this  pleased  him,  and 
she  rose  suddenly,  saying:  "It  isn't  you,  I 
suppose,  Henry,  that  have  thought  of  this, 
is  it?" 

"I?  Oh,  of  course!"  he  replied,  smiling  a  little 
scornfully. 

"Yes,  but  you'll  do  what  you  can  to  pre- 
vent it?" 

"Goodness  me,  how  you  do  take  on!  To  tell 
the  truth,  I'm  not  going  to  prevent  it.  To  make 
known  their  opinion  in  a  body  is  the  only  weapon 
these  poor  working-men  have;  and  I  can't  blame 
them  for  wishing  to  show  Norby  and  the  other 
money-bags  what  they  think  of  them." 

"That's  just  what  I  thought!"  she  sighed,  and 
left  the  room. 

It  was  doubly  painful  to  her  to  despise  him 
now  when  she  was  obliged  to  cling  to  him  against 
all  the  world.  It  was  just  now  that  she  needed 
to  respect  him ;  but  the  worst  of  it  was  that  while 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  178 

others  were  trying  to  ruin  him  he  was  doing  them 
the  service  of  ruining  himself. 

One  day  they  received  notice  from  the  liquida- 
tors that  the  works  and  villa  had  been  sold  pri- 
vately, and  that  they  must  quit  them  at  once. 
And  so  the  day  came  when  Fru  Wangen  had  to 
go  and  look  for  rooms.  There  was  an  empty 
cottage  on  a  farm  close  by  that  had  been  occupied 
by  a  schoolmaster;  but  the  owner,  Lars  Kringen, 
had  once  proposed  to  her  and  been  refused;  and 

to  go  to  him  now !  But  after  going  round 

to  a  number  of  houses,  she  came  home  quite  dis- 
couraged, and  remained  sitting  with  her  hat  and 
jacket  on.  She  had  received  the  answer  "No" 
everywhere.  But  a  house  they  must  have;  and 
she  felt  she  could  not  ask  Wangen  again.  "Well," 
she  thought,  rising,  "I  may  just  as  well  throw 
the  last  overboard!"  And  she  went  to  Lars 
Kringen. 

A  few  days  later  a  cart-load  of  furniture  was 
driven  from  the  door  of  the  pretty  villa.  Upon 
it  sat  two  children,  and  Fru  Wangen  carried 
the  third  in  her  arms.  A  little  way  behind, 
Wangen  walked  with  bowed  head,  and  hands  bur- 
ied in  the  pockets  of  his  coat. 

The  little  cottage  stood  upon  a  mound  sur- 
rounded with  fir  trees,  and  had  only  two  rooms 
and  a  kitchen ;  and  when  they  entered,  the  dif- 
ference between  it  and  the  home  they  had  left 
brought  them  both  to  a  standstill  in  the  middle 


174  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

of  the  floor.  The  rooms  were  dark,  the  paint 
was  worn  off  the  doors  and  window-frames,  the 
boards  were  splintered,  and  the  timbers  in  the 
walls  cracked. 

Fru  Wangen  had  to  undertake  a  very  thorough 
cleaning. 

The  greatest  humiliation,  however,  had  still  to 
be  gone  through.  They  had  to  ask  Lars  Kringen 
for  milk  and  provisions  on  credit ;  and  on  her  way 
to  and  from  his  house  Fru  Wangen  felt  as  if  she 
could  sink  into  the  earth.  But  all  this  was  Wan- 
gen's  fault,  and  strive  as  she  would  she  could  not 
help  a  growing  bitterness  from  rising  up  in  her 
heart  against  him;  and  in  all  this  poverty  and 
discomfort,  it  soon  came  to  be  that  they  never 
talked  to  one  another  except  to  scold.  And  Wan- 
gen came  home  drunk  more  and  more  frequently. 


CHAPTER  II 

EINAE  NORBY  still  kept  his  bed.  He  sat  up 
among  his  pillows  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and 
each  day  a  little  longer  than  on  the  preceding 
one.  As  the  days  passed,  he  saw  the  last  patch 
of  snow  melt  away  down  in  the  yard,  and  heard 
the  noise  of  wheels  take  the  place  of  the  sledge- 
bells'  jingle,  and  the  starling  make  a  noise  in 
the  gutter  over  his  head.  One  day,  too,  he  heard 
the  sheep  being  let  out  with  a  great  deal  of 
bleating  in  deep  and  high  tones,  and  little  Knut 
shouting  at  them  from  the  steps. 

To  Einar  this  illness  was  a  black  darkness  that 
separated  him  from  something  that  had  happened 
long  ago,  and  about  which  he  could  not  now 
think.  As  he  emerged  from  this  darkness,  too,  it 
struck  him  how  comfortable  he  was  lying  there. 
He  was  a  child  once  more,  wrapped  in  the  clothes 
his  mother  put  upon  him,  and  eating  what  she 
gave  him  with  her  own  hand;  he  showed  temper, 
and  was  exacting,  and  she  scolded  him;  she 
washed  him,  and  warmed  his  night-shirt  for  him 
at  the  stove,  as  in  days  gone  by. 
/  A  recovery  from  such  an  illness  is  like  being  born 
^  into  the  world  again.  Worn  out  as  one  is,  every 
little  trouble  brings  the  tears  to  one's  eyes,  just 
as  they  make  the  baby  scream;  and  waiting  for 


176  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

mother  when  she  is  away  too  long  is  unbearable 
torture. 

As  his  strength  returned,  Einar  noticed  that 
his  father  never  came  to  see  him ;  and  at  the  same 
time  he  understood  that  this  was  something  he 
ought  not  to  mention.  It  was  also  something  that 
he  ought  not  to  think  about;  for  there  was  so 
much  besides  that  went  with  it,  and  that  should 
not  be  allowed  to  come  near  him  now. 

One  day  Ingeborg  came  up  with  some  hot 
water  in  a  bath,  saying  she  thought  it  was  about 
time  he  had  his  feet  washed;  and  as  he  put  out 
his  clammy  feet,  and  enjoyed  the  wet  sponge  and 
her  gentle  touch,  the  tears  came  again  to  his 
eyes.  "Oh,  how  good  it  is  to  be  at  home  now!" 
he  thought. 

He  remembered  that  during  his  first  attacks  of 
fever,  he  had  felt  horror  at  being  tended  by  those 
whom  he  had  betrayed;  but  that  must  have  been 
part  of  the  illness.  During  the  feverish  attacks, 
he  had  also  seen  Wangen  standing  in  the  room 
and  saying:  "I  shall  be  sent  to  prison,  and  it  is 
your  fault."  And  Einar  had  screamed  with  ter- 
ror; but  that  too  had  been  part  of  his  illness, 
and  he  had  now  recovered  from  it.  Yes,  it  was 
a  strange  thing  to  be  ill. 

While  his  sister  dried  his  feet  with  a  warm 
bath-towel,  he  looked  up  at  the  ceiling,  and 
thought:  "Thank  goodness  that  I  was  prevented 
from  doing  these  people  any  harm!" 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  177 

As  the  days  passed,  and  he  gradually  became 
able  once  more  to  retain  difficult  thoughts,  he 
felt  a  certain  fear  as  to  how  it  would  be  when 
he  went  downstairs  and  met  his  father.  He  sup- 
posed he  would  have  to  ask  his  forgiveness;  but 
that,  too,  caused  him  a  strange  pain.  Thoughts 
came  to  him.  "I  have  abandoned  a  sacred  pur- 
pose; and  just  because  I  am  lying  here  and 
receiving  all  this  affection,  I  am  becoming  more 
and  more  powerless  to  take  it  up  again.  I  was 
to  save  an  innocent  man  from  punishment,  and  I 
was  to  stand  a  test  of  character.  But  I  broke 
down.  I  took  flight!  And  now  I  am  lying  and 
thanking  God  for  it!" 

"Mother !"  he  cried  involuntarily ;  and  if  she 
were  not  in  the  room,  he  would  be  seized  with  an 
uncomfortable  fear  until  she  came  back  and  he 
knew  her  to  be  near  him. 

"How  pale  and  thin  you  are,  mother!  How 
often  you  must  have  sat  up  at  night !'  • 

"That's  nothing,  my  dear  boy.  How  are  you 
now?  Is  there  anything  you've  a  fancy  for?" 

He  felt  these  few  affectionate  words  quite  over- 
whelming, because  they  dispelled  all  fears,  and 
for  a  time  gave  him  perfect  contentment  and  rest. 

Ingeborg  came  up  one  day  with  some  budding 
birch-twigs  which  she  threw  upon  his  bed. 
"There's  a  harbinger  of  spring,"  she  said.  "Now 
you  must  be  quick  and  come  out,  and  see  what  I'm 
doing  in  the  garden." 


178  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

When  at  last  he  was  allowed  to  sit  up,  his  seat 
was  placed  at  the  window.  Girls  were  running 
bare-headed  across  the  yard.  They  were  laugh- 
ing and  joking.  It  made  him  smile  too.  He 
had  had  a  lot  of  fun  down  there  among  the  houses 
as  a  boy;  there  was  a  reminiscence  connected 
with  every  corner,  and  these  were  now  awakened, 
and  all  his  ideas  connected  themselves  more  and 
more  with  the  place  and  the  people  who  lived 
in  it. 

Ingeborg  came  to  him  rather  timidly  one  day, 
and  asked  him  to  let  her  read  to  him  out  of  a 
devotional  book,  and  he  assented  in  order  to  give 
her  a  pleasure.  Gradually  as  he  listened,  however, 
he  began  to  think  it  was  beautiful.  He  had 
been  mistaken  in  this  too. 

One  evening,  when  the  reading  was  over,  she 
said:  "The  lake  is  quite  open  now;  the  steamer 
ran  to-day."  And  Einar  saw  the  great  open  lake, 
its  surface  of  a  greenish  colour  from  the  melting 
of  the  snow.  Logs  were  drifting  about  here  and 
there,  and  a  bird  was  sitting  upon  a  solitary  piece 
of  ice,  and  floating  along  with  it,  now  and  again 
flapping  its  wings.  He  saw  the  steamer  with  its 
awning,  and  ladies  on  board  in  light  dresses. 
Heigh-ho!  Summer  was  coming! 

"Do  you  know  what  father's  doing?"  asked 
Tngeborg  with  a  smile. 

"Father?"  whispered  Einar,  turning  his  head 
towards  the  wall. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  179 

"Yes.  He's  having  a  little  room  put  up  for  you 
at  the  soeter.  The  doctor  wants  you  to  be  on  the 
mountains  this  summer." 

Einar  turned  his  face  to  her  and  smiled  sud- 
denly like  a  naughty  boy.  Was  his  father  really 
thinking  about  him  and  doing  something  for  him 
too? 

"Father  hasn't  come  to  see  me,"  he  said  after 
a  little,  sadly. 

Ingeborg  sighed  and  gazed  at  the  candle. 

"He  asks  after  you  a  hundred  times  a  day," 
she  said;  "and  when  you  were  worst,  he  neither 
slept  nor  ate." 

A  little  later  she  looked  at  Einar's  pale  face 
among  the  pillows;  and  though  his  eyes  were 
closed,  the  tears  were  forcing  their  way  from 
under  their  lids,  and  his  lips  were  compressed. 
She  rose,  and  wiped  the  tears  away  with  her 
pocket-handkerchief,  saying :  "I  think  it's  to  spare 
you  that  father  doesn't  come.  And  besides,  you 
can  hardly  expect  him  to  come  as  long  as  he 
doesn't  know  what  you  think  of  him." 

Einar's  lips  were  more  tightly  compressed,  as 
if  something  hurt  him. 

"Shall  I  ask  father  to  come,  Einar?" 

"Yes,"  he  whispered. 

Norby  had  said  to  his  wife  that  there  had  been 
a  disagreement  between  himself  and  Einar,  and 
that  he  would  not  go  in  to  see  him  until  the  boy 
was  well  enough  to  talk  about  the  matter. 


180  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

He  had  gradually  become  quite  sure  that  his 
enemies  had  incited  the  boy  against  him ;  but  who 
could  have  been  knowing  enough  for  that  ?  Einar ! 
Yes,  it  was  well  done. 

But  how  anxiously  he  had  waited  to  see  whether 
Einar  would  send  to  him;  for  after  the  manner 
in  which  they  had  parted,  he  did  not  feel  able 
to  see  him  until  he  yielded.  But  would  he  yield? 
Should  he  get  his  boy  back? 

What  were  his  thoughts  now  when  the  moment 
came  at  last?  He  went  slowly  up  the  stairs,  but 
had  to  hold  tight  to  the  banisters.  When  he 
entered  the  room,  he  saw  at  once  how  emaciated 
the  boy  was.  The  thin  beard  that  had  been 
allowed  to  grow  while  he  was  ill  made  him 
unrecognisable.  Einar's  eyes  were  still  wet, 
and  he  smiled  anxiously  as  he  held  out  his 
hand. 

Ingeborg  had  come  up  again  with  him,  but 
slipped  quietly  out  when  she  saw  her  father's 
emotion;  and  the  two  were  left  alone.  The  old 
man's  lips  were  compressed  as  he  seated  himself 
and  took  his  son's  outstretched  hand.  It  was 
so  damp  and  nerveless  and  thin  that  he  was  quite 
afraid  to  take  hold  of  it.  Einar  saw  his  father's 
emotion,  and  worn  and  excited  as  he  was  already, 
he  burst  into  tears. 

"Forgive  me,  father!" 

The  old  man  rose  and  arranged  the  coverlet 
better  about  his  son. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  181 

"Don't  talk  about  it!"  he  managed  to  say. 
"And  you  mustn't  take  this  to  heart  now;  it's 
bad  for  you." 

When  a  little  later,  the  old  man  once  more 
stood  alone  in  his  office,  he  was  sniffing  as  if  he 
had  a  cold. 

"Heaven  be  praised!"  he  said,  with  his  eyes 
raised  to  the  ceiling.  "Thank  God  that  I  have 
got  my  boy  back  again !" 

He  sank  upon  the  leather  sofa,  and  sat  staring 
in  front  of  him,  his  lips  trembling.  Nothing  so 
great  had  ever  happened  at  Norby  before.  And 
so  there  was  a  higher  purpose  in  this  illness.  He 
understood  it  now. 

"Thank  God!"  he  said  again,  with  his  eyes 
raised  to  the  ceiling. 

When  a  woman  gets  back  her  child  that  rob- 
bers have  taken,  one  can  understand  that  her  joy 
is  unbounded,  but  that  her  hatred  of  those  who 
took  him  from  her,  her  fear  of  their  coming  again, 
and  her  desire  to  render  them  harmless,  are  just 
as  great  as  her  happiness.  It  was  the  same  with 
Norby  now.  In  the  midst  of  his  joy  he  thought 
of  Wangen.  "They  didn't  succeed,"  he  thought. 
"There's  One  who's  stronger  than  all  their  arti- 
fices." While  he  sat  and  thanked  God  in  an 
indescribable  feeling  of  happiness,  he  saw  Wan- 
gen  and  his  other  enemies  as  evil  forces  that  might 
come  again ;  but  they  should  really  be  made  harm- 
less now.  "He  shall  leave  the  district!"  he 


182  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

thought,  in  mingled  anger  and  pleasure.  "He's 
done  harm  enough  now.  He  shan't  only  go  to  jail ; 
he  ought  to  be  transported!"  And  if  Norby's 
best  friend  had  now  said  to  him:  "But  you  have 
guaranteed  for  this  same  Wangen,"  Norby  would 
have  knocked  him  down.  For  God  knows  it  was 
false.  Could  the  hands  be  clean  of  a  man  who 
had  recourse  to  such  tricks?  No,  no,  no!  If 
a  thought  such  as  this  crossed  the  old  man's  mind, 
it  filled  him  with  disgust,  and  he  felt  he  must  spit 
it  out.  No,  he  was  completely  in  the  right. 
That  devil  actually  declared  that  Norby  had 
signed  his  document  at  the  Grand!  Good  gra- 
cious ! 

"I  thank  Thee,  O  God !— But  he  shall  be  turned 
out  of  the  district!" 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  day  came  at  length  on  which  Fru  Wangen's 
father  and  brother  were  to  leave  their  farm.  She 
had  determined  to  get  up  very  early  in  order  to 
go  and  help  them  with  anything  that  might  be 
wanted ;  but  at  four  o'clock  she  was  awakened  by 
somebody  knocking  at  their  door.  She  was  sur- 
prised, but  got  up,  put  something  on,  and  went 
to  the  door,  and  asked  who  was  there. 

It  was  her  brother.  When  she  opened  the  door, 
she  saw  in  the  grey  light  that  he  looked  quite 
distracted. 

"Is  anything  the  matter  ?"  she  asked. 

"Father!"  he  whispered  in  a  terrified  whisper, 
and  remained  standing  outside. 

"Do  come  in !    What's  the  matter  with  father  ?" 

Her  brother  did  not  answer  immediately,  but 
walked  past  her  into  the  room,  and  sat  down  heav- 
ily. By  this  time  she  was  so  frightened  that  she 
did  not  dare  to  ask,  but  stood  dumbly  waiting. 

And  as  she  stood  there  in  the  half-light,  with 
her  shawl  wrapped  round  her,  her  brother  told 
her,  as  carefully  as  he  could,  that  the  evening 
before  they  had  missed  his  father,  and  had  been 
round  the  neighbourhood,  searching  and  inquir- 


184  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

ing.  And  at  last  they  had  found  him  hanging 
in  the  barn  at  home. 

When  Wangen  at  last  came  down  in  the  morn- 
ing he  found  his  wife  sitting  in  the  same  scanty 
attire  in  the  sitting-room,  staring  straight  before 
her.  There  was  no  coffee  made,  nothing  was  done ; 
she  only  sat  there. 

"Why,  Karen!     What  is  it?" 

"Nothing,"  she  said  huskily. 

This  day,  too,  she  had  to  go  about  and  see  to 
the  day's  work.  The  eldest  girl  had  to  go  to 
school,  the  two  younger  ones  to  be  taken  care  of, 
and  the  usual  errands  to  be  gone  up  to  the  farm 
to  fetch  food  and  milk.  But  all  the  time  her  old 
father  seemed  to  be  with  her.  Rather  than  leave 
the  home  of  his  ancestors  in  poverty  he  had  parted 
with  life.  She  could  see  him  hanging  by  his  thin 
neck  in  the  barn  where  she  had  so  often  played 
blind  man's  buff ;  and  all  the  time  he  kept  saying : 
"It  is  your  fault !  Why  did  you  marry  him  ?  Now 
you  see !" 

Great  exertion  was  needed  to  make  her  feet 
carry  her  where  she  had  to  go. 

When  Wangen  heard  it,  he  sat  motionless  for 
some  time,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  The 
image  of  this  old  man,  whom  he  had  driven  to 
death  by  his  recklessness,  took  him  back  once  more 
to  that  afternoon  in  the  dark  railway  carriage 
when  self-knowledge  and  cold  responsibility  had 
overwhelmed  him  as  a  superhuman  burden. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  185 

"Oh!"  he  cried  suddenly,  starting  up,  "this  is 
too  much,  Karen!  I  can't  bear  it;  you  must 
help  me!" 

"I  think  you  ought  to  help  me,"  she  replied 
monotonously,  without  looking  at  him. 

Later  in  the  day  he  came  in  and  found  her  again 
sitting  and  gazing  straight  before  her,  motionless 
and  far  away,  although  their  youngest  child  was 
standing  crying  and  pulling  at  her  skirts.  And 
when  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  him  he  started 
involuntarily.  He  did  not  know  whether  her  gaze 
was  full  of  terror  of  him,  or  whether  it  was 
hatred. 

"Now  she  thinks  this  is  my  fault,  and  she'll 
say  so  soon !"  he  thought ;  and  although  he  knew 
it  was  true,  he  felt  a  desire  to  oppose  and  keep 
her  at  a  distance.  "As  if  I  hadn't  enough  to 
bear  already!"  he  thought.  "And  she  wants  to 
throw  this  upon  me !"  And  he  worked  himself  up 
to  still  greater  irritation  against  her,  as  if  this 
new  misfortune  had  been  in  some  way  or  other 
due  to  her. 

They  went  about  in  fear  of  one  another,  each 
keeping  silence  from  a  suspicion  that  the  other 
was  ready  to  recriminate.  They  had  been  torn 
from  the  home  in  which  they  had  passed  happy 
years,  and  the  discomfort  and  poverty  of  the 
miserable  cottage  only  helped  to  remind  them  of 
their  misfortune  and  keep  them  apart. 

While  Fru  Wangen  was  standing  in  the  kitchen 


186  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

making  some  soup  for  the  children,  she  suddenly 
sank  into  a  chair  and  stared  into  the  fire  with 
terrified  eyes,  for  her  father,  as  he  hung  there, 
said  that  he  did  not  mind  about  Wangen.  It  was 
only  she  he  troubled  about,  she  who  had  brought 
him  into  the  family. 

It  was  she!    It  was  she! 

The  soup  boiled  over,  and  Fru  Wangen  did 
not  notice  it.  The  floor  seemed  to  be  sliding 
away  from  under  her,  and  she  thought  that 
something  black  stretched  out  hands  towards  her 
until  she  turned  cold  with  terror,  and  began 
involuntarily  to  look  for  something  to  save 
her. 

It  was  the  bankruptcy  that  had  ruined  them 
all.  But  supposing  that  Wangen  were  really 
innocent?  Then  her  father  might  have  made  his 
speech  to  those  who  were  guilty.  She  also  now 
saw  in  Wangen's  innocence  a  plank  to  which  she 
could  cling.  He  was  innocent ;  he  must  be  inno- 
cent. 

Later  in  the  day  Wangen  had  gone  to  her 
father's  farm,  as  she  did  not  feel  equal  to  it; 
but  he  turned  back,  too,  when  he  saw  the  house. 
He  dared  not  see  the  dead  man. 

When  he  came  home,  his  wife  was  sitting  alone 
with  her  elbows  upon  the  table  and  her  chin  rest- 
ing in  her  hands. 

"Where  are  the  children?"  he  asked  at  once, 
looking  round. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  187 

"They're  sent  away,"  she  said  in  a  dull  tone, 
looking  at  him. 

An  uncomfortable  suspicion  suddenly  crossed 
his  mind. 

"But  tell  me  where  they  are,"  he  said,  open- 
ing the  door  to  the  other  room ;  but  there  was  no 
one  there. 

"I  telephoned  for  your  aunt,"  she  said  in  the 
same  tone  as  before.  "She  came  at  once,  and 
drove  away  a  little  while  ago."  And  as  he  still 
stood  and  looked  at  her  a  little  uncertainly,  she 
added,  "I  thought  it  would  be  better  for  you, 
Henry.  Is  there  anything  you  would  like  me  to 
help  you  with?" 

It  sounded  so  mysterious.  He  did  not  thank 
her,  because  he  felt  it  was  not  to  him  she  spoke, 
but  to  herself. 

It  was  uncomfortably  empty  in  the  bedroom 
when  they  went  to  bed  that  night.  The  children's 
places  were  empty. 

Although  Fru  Wangen  had  been  frightened 
into  turning  to  her  husband,  clung  to  his  inno- 
cence, and  felt  a  desire  to  support  him  and  show 
him  confidence,  she  could  not  speak  to  him  yet; 
for  she  did  not  want  to  say  anything  unkind,  and 
she  could  not  yet  say  anything  kind.  The  silence 
was  all  the  greater  because  there  was  no  sound  of 
whimpering,  no  gentle  breathing,  no  little  bodies 
turning  over  in  bed  or  requiring  covering.  Hus- 
band and  wife  were  thrown  back  upon  each  other, 


188  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

and  the  silence  and  the  breach  between  them 
forced  them  to  look  into  themselves,  where  each 
saw  the  old  man  hanging  in  the  barn. 

Wangen  was  in  bed  before  his  wife,  and  lay 
looking  at  her.  It  took  her  so  long  to  undress; 
it  was  as  though  she  dreaded  going  to  bed.  Now 
and  again  she  looked  round  bewildered,  as  if  she 
expected  to  find  the  children  there  after  all. 

"It's  not  my  fault  this  time  at  any  rate,"  he 
thought;  "but  she'll  lay  the  blame  on  to  me  all 
the  same." 

When  at  last  she  was  in  bed,  lying  on  her  back 
with  her  hands  under  her  head,  looking  up  at  the 
ceiling,  he  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  she 
was  capable  of  anything,  perhaps  that  very  night 
when  he  was  asleep.  A  tallow  candle  was  burning 
on  a  stool  by  his  bedside,  but  he  dared  not  put 
it  out. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  put  out  the  candle?"  she 
asked  in  a  dull  voice,  still  looking  up  at  the 
ceiling. 

He  had  to  put  it  out  at  last.  The  grey  light 
of  the  spring  night  showed  in  the  window,  which 
had  no  blind,  and  they  both  lay  with  wide-open 
eyes  fixed  on  this  faint  light,  as  if  they  were  afraid 
of  closing  them  or  looking  into  darkness.  Neither 
of  them  had  any  pretext  for  rising  to  attend  to 
one  or  other  of  the  children ;  so  they  were  forced 
to  lie  still  and  let  the  thoughts  put  up  their  heads 
out  of  the  night.  She  seemed  to  see  her  father  as 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  189 

he  was  the  last  time  he  came  to  her,  saw  him  down 
in  the  garden,  heard  his  opinion  of  her  husband. 
"Why  wasn't  I  more  compliant  then?"  she 
thought.  "It's  too  late  now!  I  can  never  make 
up  for  it !  What  have  I  done  ?" 

Wangen  lived  over  again  the  scene  when  he  had 
borrowed  the  last  ten  thousand  krones.  He  lied, 
he  exaggerated,  he  persuaded — and  believed  in  it. 
That  was  how  it  seemed  with  all  his  ideals  now. 
He  believed  in  them;  they  intoxicated  him 
slightly;  but  just  look  at  the  consequences! 

He  involuntarily  began  to  tremble  in  his  bed, 
for  he  felt  as  if  he  would  have  to  drag  the  dead 
body  of  the  old  man  after  him  for  ever  and  ever. 
Fru  Wangen  noticed  his  distress,  and  it  made 
her  own  greater.  "Is  it  his  fault  after  all?" 
she  thought,  and  felt  her  anger  rise.  But  in 
that  case  it  would  be  her  fault  too.  No,  he 
was  innocent;  he  must  be  innocent.  The  desire 
to  hold  him  up  insensibly  gained  the  upper  hand, 
and  she  put  out  her  hand  towards  him. 

"Take  hold  of  my  hand,  Henry!" 

And  when  their  hands  lay  in  one  another's — 
the  two  alone  together — they  were  as  they  had 
been  when  they  were  newly  married  and  fell  asleep 
with  fingers  intertwined. 

"Shouldn't  I  have  married  him  when  I  was  fond 
of  him?"  she  thought,  as  if  her  father  could  hear; 
and  she  insensibly  conjured  up  the  memory  of 
the  beautiful  moments  in  their  early  love,  as  if 


190  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

to    convince    herself    that    she   was    honest    now. 

But  her  father  had  objections  to  make — hang- 
ing there — and  she  involuntarily  pressed  her 
husband's  hand  closer.  This  union  of  their  hands 
in  affection  gave  their  fear  another  direction. 
They  were  at  last  able  to  occupy  themselves  with 
others,  and  therefore  began  to  be  sorry  for  one 
another,  because  that  kept  them  from  seeing  to 
the  bottom  of  their  own  misery. 

"My  poor  Karen!"  said  Wangen.  "It's  worst 
for  you  after  all." 

She  loosened  his  hand  to  stroke  his  wrist,  and 
answered  in  a  low  voice:  "Oh  no,  Henry!  It's 
worst  for  you.  Good  heavens!" 

"No,  Karen,  for  I'm  a  man;  and  he  was  your 
father." 

The  last  words  gave  her  a  shock,  and  once  more 
brought  the  image  of  the  dead  man  before  her 
eyes.  But  she  could  not  stand  this  any  longer. 
It  couldn't  be  Wangen's  fault.  And  insensibly 
she  took  refuge  in  Wangen,  in  his  innocence, 
wherein  now  lay  her  only  safety. 

"Henry,  may  I  come  into  your  bed?" 

"Yes,  dear." 

He  too  was  glad  not  to  feel  alone  any  more. 
He  held  up  the  bedclothes,  and  she  crept  in,  and 
as  in  the  old  days  laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder, 
clung  to  him  so  as  to  feel  safe  and  calm. 

He  covered  her  up  carefully,  and  put  his  arms 
about  her.  The  confidence  of  each  inspired  the 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  191 

other,  and  they  took  refuge  in  one  another,  in 
the  hope  of  finding  the  good  conscience  they  both 
sought  for.  And  as  the  warmth  of  one  body 
was  imparted  to  the  other,  and  they  became  one, 
they  began  involuntarily  to  talk  of  their  com- 
mon excuse,  as  if  to  convince  themselves  each 
through  the  other. 

After  lying  a  little  while,  she  said  softly, 
against  his  cheek,  with  a  sigh:  "Oh  dear!  All 
this  wouldn't  have  happened,  if " 

He  understood  what  she  meant,  and  passed  his 
disengaged  hand  across  his  forehead.  "No,"  he 
said,  "it  wouldn't."  And  at  the  words  they  both 
saw  Norby  and  the  rich  men  as  the  powers  of 
evil  against  which  their  indignation  might  rise; 
and  instead  of  feeling  themselves  guilty,  they 
began  to  feel  themselves  as  a  kind  of  champions 
of  right  and  truth.  For  him  especially  it  was 
so  good  to  hear  this  from  her;  for  now  she  no 
longer  doubted  either. 

Outside  the  spring  night  was  passing  slowly. 
They  could  hear  the  sound  of  rain  on  the  doorstep, 
and  of  the  brook  that  ran  down  past  their  house 
from  the  little  valley. 

She  had  been  lying  some  time  looking  at  the 
window,  when  she  said:  "Perhaps  Haarstad's 
widow  was  pressed  into  making  that  declaration 
too!" 

"Yes!"  said  he,  stretching  himself. 

This  suspicion  of  his,  that  she  had  abhorred 


192  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

before,  she  now  felt  a  desire  to  cling  to;  there 
was  a  relief,  a  kind  of  acquittal  in  it. 

They  tried  to  close  their  eyes  and  be  silent, 
but  neither  of  them  could  sleep,  and  both  wanted 
to  go  on  listening  to  their  defence. 

"Well,  now  they'll  go  to  America,  most  of  the 
work-people,"  he  said,  and  left  her  to  say  the 
rest.  And  in  a  little  while  she  said:  "All  those 
who  can  work  are  likely  to  go,  when  things  are 
managed  as  they  are  here." 

He  felt  such  pleasure  and  comfort  every  time 
she  said  what  he  had  so  often  said.  She  was 
quite  on  his  side  at  last.  At  last  she,  too,  felt 
convinced. 

"And  you  had  thought  of  establishing  a  pen- 
sion fund  for  them,  too,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  if  I  could  only  have  gone  on." 

"And  how  well  the  working-men  lived!  I  re- 
member when  their  wives  brought  them  their 
meals  how  pleased  and  happy  they  looked!" 

"Yes,  it's  different  now,"  said  he. 

The  night  was  very  long;  but  they  kept  close 
to  one  another,  and  talked  at  intervals  about  the 
same  thing,  as  if  it  were  a  fire  that  had  to  be 
kept  up.  She  even  ventured  to  say:  "Don't  you 
think  people  would  have  got  pretty  good  interest 
on  their  money,  if  only  you  could  have  gone  on  in 
peace?" 

"Yes,  of  course!  Why,  it  was  improving  all 
the  time — until  the  rich  men  grew  frightened." 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  1Q3 

"Yes,  I  haven't  understood  until  now,  what  a 
disappointment  it  must  have  been  for  you,"  she 
said  with  feeling;  and  burying  her  head  in  his 
shoulder  she  whispered:  "Can  you  forgive  me, 
Henry?  I  haven't  been  what  I  should  have  been." 

He  was  touched.  "Forgive?"  he  said.  "Why, 
I've  nothing  to  forgive!  You've  been  so  clever, 
Karen,  and  have  had  so  much  to  see  to.  But  I'll 
help  you  now." 

"Don't  talk  like  that,  Henry!  I  see  now  that 
you  must  have  felt  paralysed." 

Thus  the  night  passed.  They  talked  themselves 
more  and  more  together,  and  found  their  own 
confidence  in  one  another.  They  both  felt  haunted 
by  the  dark,  cold  responsibility,  and  fled  hand 
in  hand  towards  the  land  of  innocence. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  spring  was  early  this  year,  and  when  Pastor 
Borring  went  up  the  avenue  to  Norby  Farm  at 
the  beginning  of  May,  the  trees  were  in  leaf,  and 
a  strong  scent  of  leaves  and  grass  filled  the  air. 
The  priest  carried  a  bag  in  his  hand.  He  was 
going  on  a  sick  visit  to  Lars  Kleven  up  on  the 
hill. 

Many  of  the  young  trees  in  the  avenue  were 
torn  up  or  broken  off,  as  if  after  a  hurricane; 
but  it  was  after  the  working  men's  procession  to 
Norby  on  the  first  of  May. 

When  the  priest  came  to  the  garden,  he  saw 
Norby  inside  the  fence  in  a  white  working  coat, 
busy  with  some  trees.  The  priest  stopped  and 
fell  into  conversation  with  him. 

"It  looks  dreadful  after  the  demonstrators," 
said  he  with  a  shake  of  the  head.  "Upon  my 
word,  it's  not  only  the  consul's  standing  drinks 
that  has  fooled  them;  there  must  have  been  some 
one  or  other  who  has  dealt  out  mental  strong 
drinks  too." 

Norby  looked  surprised,  but  laughed  as  he 
leaned  upon  his  spade.  "The  workmen?"  he  said. 
"They  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  damage  in  the 
grounds.  The  wind  did  that  one  night." 

The  priest  looked  a  little  sheepish,  and  soon 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  195 

went  on  his  way.  That  Norby  had  a  peculiar 
way  of  being  proud!  He  was  so  terribly  afraid 
that  any  one  should  pity  him. 

The  path  up  the  hill  was  muddy  after  the  rain 
in  the  night,  but  the  leaves  of  the  trees  and  the 
green  slopes  were  glistening  in  the  sun.  Brooks 
ran  noisily  towards  the  fjord,  and  in  the  fields 
round  about  men  and  horses  were  busy  har- 
rowing. 

At  last  the  priest  had  mounted  the  last  hill, 
on  which  stood  the  little  cottage.  Dwelling-house 
and  cow-shed  together  formed  one  building;  it 
would  be  difficult  to  know  the  one  from  the  other, 
were  it  not  for  the  porch  at  one  end,  and  two 
small  windows  at  each  side.  The  steps  were 
washed  and  the  stones  strewn  with  fir  twigs, 
because  the  priest  was  expected. 

He  had  to  stoop  to  enter.  The  ceiling  was 
low,  too,  so  that  he  had  to  keep  his  head  bent. 
A  saucepan  of  water  was  steaming  on  the  fire, 
the  floor  was  white  and  strewn  with  fir  twigs,  the 
wife  was  sitting  dressed  in  her  best  with  a  hymn- 
book  in  her  hand,  and  in  bed,  beneath  an  old  skin 
coverlet,  lay  Lars  Kleven,  in  a  shirt  so  white  that 
it  must  have  been  put  on  at  the  moment  the  priest 
was  seen  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  The  priest 
first  shook  hands  with  the  wife,  and  then  went  to 
the  bed. 

"And  how  are  you,  my  dear  Lars?" 

Lars  said  nothing,  pressed  his  lips  together, 


196  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

and  looked  at  the  priest.  It  was  his  wife  who 
answered. 

"Oh,  mercy!  How  frightened  I  was  that  he'd 
be  gone  before  the  priest  came !" 

The  priest  took  the  old  man's  hand.  It  was  as 
hard  as  horn,  and  quite  cold.  The  furrowed, 
weather-beaten  face  was  motionless,  and  the  old 
eyes  looked  up  dully.  Now  and  then  his  mouth 
moved,  for  he  still  had  his  quid  to  chew.  The 
pastor  sat  down. 

"Are  you  afraid  to  die,  my  dear  Lars?" 

It  was  again  the  wife  that  answered. 

"He  has  something  to  confess  to  you,"  she 
said. 

"Indeed?"  The  priest  looked  kindly  at  the 
old  man  in  the  bed. 

The  dying  man  suddenly  surprised  him  by  send- 
ing a  squirt  of  tobacco-juice  out  of  his  mouth 
on  to  the  floor.  "It  was  about  the  inquiry,"  he 
then  said,  looking  anxiously  at  the  priest. 

"Oh!    Between  Wangen  and  Norby?" 

"He  wanted  to  go  and  give  evidence,"  said  the 
wife ;  "but  he  hadn't  the  courage  to  give  evidence 
against  Norby." 

The  priest  looked  expectantly  at  Lars,  who 
kept  his  eyes  all  the  time  anxiously  on  him,  still 
chewing  his  quid. 

"Do  you  think  there's  pardon  for  me?"  he 
asked  at  length. 

"Yes.    Why  not?"    The  priest  smiled. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  197 

"When  I  didn't  go  and  give  evidence  to  the 
truth,  even  though  God  told  me  to?" 

"Are  you  sure  you  knew  the  truth  then,  Lars?" 

"He  went  with  Norby  to  town  that  time  when 
he  signed  the  paper,"  said  the  wife,  who  now 
stood  by  the  table  with  her  hymn-book  in  front 
of  her,  looking  anxiously  at  the  priest. 

Pastor  Borring  sat  looking  at  the  floor  for  a 
little  while. 

"And  now  he  thinks  there's  no  pardon  for  him," 
said  the  wife,  wiping  her  eyes.  "But  I  tell  him 
that  Christ  died  for  that  sin,  too?" 

The  priest  still  looked  down  at  the  floor,  but 
he  felt  the  eyes  of  the  dying  man  eagerly  fixed 
upon  him,  and  he  knew  that  he  must  answer  when 
he  met  those  eyes. 

If  Pastor  Borring  had  been  alone  and  unin- 
fluenced by  the  moment,  he  would  have  answered: 
"Even  if  Christ  died  for  your  sins,  and  even  if 
you  get  to  heaven,  Wangen  may  suffer  just  as 
much  in  consequence  of  your  sin."  He  had  it 
in  his  mind  to  say  it,  too,  but  it  was  another 
matter  to  look  up  and  meet  the  old,  frightened 
eyes. 

"Do  you  think  there's  pardon  for  me?"  came 
at  last  from  the  bed;  and  the  priest  had  to 
answer. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  looking  up. 

"Will  you  pray  for  me?"  said  Lars,  turning 
his  quid  in  his  mouth.  The  priest  rose  and 


198  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

folded  his  hands ;  but  what  should  he  pray  ?  He 
thought  of  Wangen.  But  the  sun  shone  brightly 
in  upon  the  fir-strewn  floor,  throwing  a  few  beams 
across  the  old  skin  coverlet  and  on  the  old  man's 
shirt.  It  was  like  a  message  from  Him  who  shines 
upon  the  good  and  the  evil,  thought  the  priest, 
and  there  was  such  poverty  and  helplessness  in 
this  little  cottage,  and  the  two  poor  old  people 
filled  him  with  a  desire  to  be  merciful,  and  he 
began  to  pray  God  to  be  merciful. 

When  he  ended,  the  wife  was  crying,  and  the 
old  man  lay  with  his  hands  folded  upon  the  cover- 
let, and  the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks.  When 
the  priest  sat  down,  he  said:  "Will  you  give  me 
the  sacrament?" 

The  priest  rose  mechanically  and  opened  his 
bag.  He  heard  the  swallows  flying  past  the  win- 
dow outside  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  starling  that 
had  its  nest  up  under  the  eaves.  It  was  like 
another  message  to  tell  him  that  Jjfe  was  grea^eor 
than  man's  idea  of  right  and  wrong. 

When  he  stood  ready  in  his  priest's  robes,  after 
pouring  the  wine  into  the  chalice  he  had  brought 
with  him,  he  said  with  bowed  head :  "Listen,  Lars. 
The  trial  is  next  week.  Won't  you  ask  your  wife 
to  go  and  give  evidence  for  you?  I  can  confirm 
what  you  have  now  confessed?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  old  man,  looking  longingly 
at  the  chalice.  The  wife  sighed  upon  her  bench, 
but  came  up  and  took  the  quid  out  of  her  hus- 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  199 

band's   mouth,    and   laid   it    on   the   window-sill. 

When  the  priest  had  given  the  sacrament,  and 
had  packed  up  his  gown  again,  he  sat  a  little 
longer  by  the  dying  man's  bedside.  It  seemed  as 
if  Lars  had  only  kept  up  in  expectation  of  the 
sacrament  and  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins,  and 
that  he  now  suddenly  began  to  sink.  Once  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  turned  them  upon  his  wife. 
She  understood  him,  and  took  the  half-chewed 
quid  from  the  window-sill  and  put  it  into  his 
mouth;  and  Lars  looked  at  her,  as  much  as  to 
say:  "Yes,  that  was  it." 

The  priest  rose,  and  was  taking  his  departure 
when  the  dying  man  looked  once  more  at  the  priest 
and  then  affectionately  at  his  wife,  and  whispered : 
"Oh  no!  She  mustn't  be  made  to  go  and  give 
evidence,  for  he'll  take  the  cottage  from  her  if 
she  does." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  priest  a  little  uncer- 
tainly, as  he  paused. 

Old  Lars  smiled  with  content  at  finding  that 
every  prospect  had  brightened  so  wonderfully, 
both  for  time  and  eternity;  and  he  settled  him- 
self deeper  into  his  pillow.  He  then  wanted  to 
raise  his  head  as  if  to  spit,  but  could  not;  the 
tobacco  stuck  in  his  throat,  and  he  coughed;  and 
the  cough  became  a  dying  rattle,  and  after  a 
moment  that  too  ceased. 

His  wife  stood  some  time  gazing  at  him,  and 
then  went  resolutely  up  and  closed  his  eyes.  She 


200  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

then  turned  to  the  priest.  "Thank  God!"  she 
said  with  emotion.  "Now  I  know  that  Lars  died 
saved." 

On  his  way  homewards  with  his  bag  in  his  hand 
the  priest  stopped  on  the  hill,  and  sitting  down 
on  a  stone,  rested  his  chin  in  his  hand,  and  looked 
out  over  the  parish. 

Whenever  Pastor  Borring  had  imparted  for-\ 
giveness  of  sins  he  was  always  unhappy;  for  in 
the  first  place  he  did  not  feel  that  God  had 
charged  him  with  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  and  in 
the  second  he  did  not  believe  in  the  notion  of  for- 
giveness. And  yet  in  the  course  of  time  he  had 
laid  his  hand  in  church  upon  the  heads  of  thou- 
sands, and  lied  this  dangerous  comfort  into  their 
souls. 

And  now  he  was  sitting  here,  unhappy  once 
more.  He  had  never  felt  more  distinctly  than 
now  how  altogether  meaningless  it  was  to  pardon, 
to  forgive.  If  God  forgave  Lars  Kleven,  was 
He  also  to  pardon  on  Wangen's  behalf  ?  Wangen 
would  perhaps  be  unjustly  condemned,  in  spite 
of  the  pardon.  And  Wangen's  family,  who  were 
the  sufferers? 

JMo,  a  wicked  action  is  a  thing  that  is  set  in 
tion,  and  perhaps  never  stops.  It  appears  in 
consequences  and  the  consequences  of  those  con- 
sequences; it  spreads  like  an  infectious  disease, 
and  no  one  knows  when  or  how  it  will  cease. 
Even  if  it  is  lost  to  sight,  it  still  goes  on  its 


V» 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  201 

way.  Who  will  pardon  here?  God?  Is  it  His 
duty  to  pardon  it  on  the  behalf  of  innocent  per- 
sons? 

Thus  thought  Pastor  Borring  as  he  sat.  On 
his  way  home  he  felt  saddened  and  ashamed,  as  he 
so  often  did  during  the  performance  of  an  act 
from  which  he  did  not  feel  strong  enough  to  free 
himself. 

But  what  was  he  to  do  now?  The  confessions 
of  a  dying  man  are  sacred. 


CHAPTER  V 

FETJ  WANGEN  had  been  impatient  for  the  demon- 
stration to  take  place.  The  means  that  she  had 
despised  in  her  husband,  she  herself  now  felt  a 
sudden  desire  to  resort  to,  like  a  person  in 
despair,  who  gropes  about  for  anything  he  can 
lay  hands  on. 

But  after  the  day  when  the  consul  had  secretly 
made  the  demonstrators  drunk,  so  that  they 
frightened  the  whole  district  with  their  behaviour, 
both  Wangen  and  his  wife  saw  that  these  allies  of 
theirs  had  once  more  injured  their  cause;  for  the 
whole  district  was  quite  sure  that  Wangen  was 
at  the  back  of  it  all,  and  even  Norby's  worst 
enemies  began  to  feel  sympathy  for  him  and  to 
turn  from  Wangen. 

As  the  trial  approached,  Wangen's  fear  of 
being  left  to  stand  alone  became  greater  and 
greater.  It  was  witnesses  that  he  must  have,  and 
now  he  no  longer  relied  upon  witnesses,  for  he 
had  a  suspicion  that  every  one  hated  him. 

At  night,  when  he  lay  and  polished  up  his  inno- 
cence, he  saw  more  and  more  vividly  that  scene 
at  the  Grand,  when  the  document  was  signed. 
At  first  he  had  not  been  quite  sure  that  it  was 
there;  but  as  he  had  said  it  once,  it  was  most 
probable;  and  the  oftener  he  said  it,  the  more 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  203 

certain  he  became  that  it  was  there  and  nowhere 
else.  He  now  even  remembered  the  corner  they 
had  sat  in.  There  were  Norby,  Haarstad  and 
himself,  and  they  were  drinking  coffee  after  din- 
ner. But  was  there  no  one  else?  Suppose  there 
had  been  some  one  else  who  had  seen  it  all! 

He  conjured  up  this  scene  more  and  more 
vividly,  as  if  it  had  some  hidden  power  that  might 
suddenly  make  its  appearance  and  be  his  salva- 
tion. He  seemed  to  sit  there,  and  even  to  feel 
the  taste  of  the  strong  coffee.  He  saw  people  at 
the  neighbouring  tables,  while  Norby  signed.  The 
cigar-smoke  lay  in  layers  in  the  air,  the  waiters 
ran  about  with  napkins  under  their  arms,  counted 
money,  and  drew  corks.  Glasses  jingled,  people 
laughed  and  made  a  noise,  and  conversation  filled 
the  cafe.  And  here  sat  the  three,  and  signed 
their  names.  But  was  there  actually  no  fourth 
man? 

He  began  to  have  a  suspicion  that  there  had 
been  one  more  just  because  he  so  earnestly  wished 
it.  But  perhaps  they  had  bought  him  too.  This 
thought  angered  him.  It  should  be  brought  to 
light.  He  went  on  seeing  the  hands  writing,  and 
the  people  round  looking  on.  He  even  saw  it 
when  he  slept;  he  saw  it  when  he  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  any  one  he  was  speaking  to.  This  was  the 
scene  that  had  to  be  proved  and  it  therefore 
appeared  in  a  feverish  light,  the  more  helpless  he 
felt  himself.  At  last  he  really  began  to  have  a 


204  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

consciousness  that  there  had  actually  been  a 
fourth  man  close  by.  At  first  it  was  only  like  a 
shadow  on  the  wall;  but  the  shadow  acquired 
eyes  that  looked  on  while  Norby  signed.  It 
acquired  a  voice  that  said:  "Yes,  I  saw  it;  but  I 
will  not  interfere  in  the  matter  now."  Indeed? 
But  he  would  have  to.  He  should  be  brought  to 
light,  no  matter  how  well  he  had  been  paid  for 
not  interfering.  Wangen  became  more  and  more 
eager  to  produce  him,  as  the  trial  pressed  closer 
upon  him. 

One  day  he  had  again  met  the  tailor  with  the 
mad  eyes,  and  lay  awake  at  night.  He  then  saw 
this  unknown  form  more  vividly  than  ever;  it 
resisted  and  would  not  advance,  but  it  would  have 
to,  by  Jove  it  would!  And  although  Wangen 
again  and  again  felt  impelled  to  cuff  himself  and 
say  that  he  was  mad,  he  could  not  but  wish,  hope 
and  cling  to  this  new  possibility,  which  would 
save  him  at  the  last  moment. 

One  day  he  told  his  wife  about  it,  and  she 
became  excited  and  encouraged  him  almost  fiercely. 
As  she  questioned  him  more  closely,  and  he  had  to 
answer  with  probable  reasons,  it  came  to  be  some 
one  whom  he  did  not  yet  quite  recollect:  it  was 
several  years  ago.  But  to  sit  and  talk  about  this 
person  became  a  strengthening  draught  to  them 
both.  At  last  one  evening,  when  they  had  once 
more  been  sitting  and  talking  about  it,  and  Wan- 
gen had  been  burrowing  for  some  time  in  his 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  205 

memory,  he  suddenly  sprang  up,  crying :  "I  have 
him!" 

"Henry!"  exclaimed  his  wife  with  a  little  cry, 
also  rising. 

"It  was  Rasmus  Brodersen." 

"Oh,  thank  God!"  she  panted,  with  her  hands 
upon  her  breast.  But  Rasmus  Brodersen  was  in 
America.  Wangen  believed,  however,  that  one  of 
the  letters  from  him  was  on  this  subject. 

He  got  out  his  packet  of  letters,  and  began 
to  read  through  all  letters  from  this  old  school- 
friend  of  his.  He  did  not  find  it  that  evening.  It 
was  possible  it  might  have  been  lost. 

The  excitement  and  tension  of  these  hours  made 
Fru  Wangen  quite  ill.  She  wanted  to  sit  up  at 
night,  but  he  wanted  to  wait  until  the  following 
day ;  and  as  he  seated  himself  with  fresh  packets 
of  letters  the  next  morning,  he  thought:  "She'll 
be  beside  herself  if  I  don't  find  anything  to-day." 

At  about  dinner-time  she  came  in  to  see  him  in 
the  bedroom  where  he  was  sitting,  and  asked  for 
the  twentieth  time:  "Well?" 

"There  should  still  be  another  packet  somewhere 
or  other,"  he  said,  scratching  his  head;  and  he 
began  to  rummage  every  receptacle  to  find  it. 

"It  must  be  in  this  last  packet!"  she  thought; 
and  she  determined  to  leave  him  in  peace,  and  let 
him  come  himself  and  tell  her.  And  while  she 
waited  for  this  salvation  for  them  both,  she  sud- 
denly regained  her  pride  and  peace  of  mind.  She 


206  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

went  on  her  errands  up  to  the  farm,  tall,  with 
slow  steps,  bare-headed  in  the  sun,  her  hair  like  a 
crown  above  the  pale,  beautiful  face.  Perhaps 
after  all  her  husband's  enemies  would  be  disap- 
pointed. 

That  day  was  the  first  on  which  she  had  not 
thought :  "I  wonder  how  little  Bias  is  now !"  And 
as  regarded  her  father — it  was  a  great  trouble 
and  sorrow,  but  it  no  longer  caused  a  bad  con- 
science. 

At  dinner-time  she  went  and  listened  at  his 
door.  She  heard  the  rustling  of  paper,  but  she 
dared  not  disturb  him  to  say  that  dinner  was 
ready,  although  she  had  got  some  unusually  good 
meat  to-day,  that  she  knew  he  would  like. 

At  last  he  came  out,  quite  pleased  and  satisfied. 
He  had  not  found  it  yet,  but  he  was  so  sure  that 
he  would  have  it  before  the  evening.  The  decided 
promise  nearly  turned  her  head  with  joy.  Sleep- 
less nights  and  emotion  had  unhinged  her,  and 
while  they  dined  she  was  childishly  gay.  Oh  no, 
he  should  be  let  off  having  to  tell  her,  if  only  it 
came  to  light  that  evening;  and  she  drank  to 
his  health  in  water,  and  put  her  finger  in  his  glass 
to  change  his  water  into  wine  for  him ;  and  while 
she  laughed  over  this,  the  tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

She  was  on  thorns  all  the  afternoon;  but  he 
had  asked  to  be  left  alone,  and  he  should  be. 

At  last  he  opened  the  door,  and  said,  smiling: 
"Here  it  is,  Karen!" 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  207 

Once  more  she  started  up  with  the  cry  of 
"Henry !"  Then  she  ran  to  him,  seized  the  paper 
from  him,  and  began  to  run  through  it.  Ah,  yes ! 
It  was  written  a  couple  of  years  ago,  and  men- 
tioned a  good  dinner,  and  further  on — yes,  there 
it  was !  There  it  was ! 

She  hung  upon  his  neck,  took  his  head  between 
her  hands  and  held  it  from  her  while  she  mur- 
mured: "Why  don't  you  kiss  me?  Why  don't 
you  fly  up  to  the  ceiling?  Oh,  I  shall  faint!" 
She  had  to  take  the  paper  to  read  it  once  more. 
But — but — a  cold  shiver  suddenly  ran  through 
her.  This  handwriting — it — it  was  so  sus- 
piciously like  Wangen's  own.  She  looked  quickly 
up  at  him,  but  she  dared  not  say  anything. 

"When  I  produce  this  in  court,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing, "I  think  it  will  be  enough." 

"Yes,  of  course,  Henry."  She  still  laughed 
with  delight,  but  was  obliged  to  sit  down.  "What 
has  he  done?"  she  thought,  sitting  and  gazing 
straight  before  her.  "God  help  me !"  Everything 
seemed  to  crumble  to  pieces,  and  she  gazed  into 
his  guilt  in  everything,  in  everything!  But  this 
could  not  be!  It  must  not,  must  not  be!  She 
might  have  made  a  mistake.  She  would  not  look 
at  the  letter  any  more,  and  she  gave  it  back  to 
him  with  a  smile,  and  begged  him  to  take  good 
care  of  it.  It  might  perhaps  help  him  a  little, 
only  a  little;  for  he  must  be  let  off. 

That  evening,  when  they  were  in  bed,  she  said: 


208  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

"You  don't  write  any  more  in  the  papers  now, 
Henry,  but  I  think  it  might  very  well  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  public  how  the  pastor  and 
Thora  have  behaved  to  us." 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "and  it  might  be  a  good  thing 
if  it  were  read  by  the  jurymen,  too,  before  they 
went  to  pass  verdict  on  me." 

And  they  tried  to  sleep,  with  hands  interclasped. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  MAN  was  coming  down  the  hills  from  the  north, 
and  stopped  at  Norby  Saeter,  at  the  door  of  which 
Einar  was  sitting  making  a  birch-broom. 

While  the  stranger  lay  -full  length  upon  the 
grass,  his  head  resting  on  his  wallet,  he  related 
how  he  had  met  a  she-bear  and  two  cubs  west  of 
the  Great  Snow-field.  As  news  from  the  valley, 
he  mentioned  that  Wangen's  trial  was  to  take 
place  that  day. 

"Indeed?"  said  Einar,  and  went  on  with  his 
birch-broom. 

He  rowed  the  man  across  the  mountain  lake, 
for  he  was  going  west  and  down  into  the  other 
valley.  Einar  heard  that  the  doctor's  twenty- 
year-old  daughter  had  come  up  to  Buvik  Saeter, 
and  this  awakened  pleasant  recollections  of  the 
ball  at  Christmas. 

He  had  lived  here  for  a  month  in  delightful 
quiet.  For  company  he  had  the  old  dairymaid, 
the  dog  and  the  cattle.  He  was  to  drink  milk, 
go  for  walks,  keep  his  feet  dry,  and  sleep  and 
eat  well.  And  day  after  day  he  plodded  about  in 
wooden  shoes  and  frieze  clothes  like  any  peasant. 
It  was  splendid ! 

But  now  his  peace  was  destroyed.  The  news  of 
the  trial  had  cut  like  a  knife.  Old  wounds  were 


210  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

reopened,  and  he  felt  a  despair  approaching, 
which  he  was  not  equal  to  bearing,  and  to  which 
he  involuntarily  rose  in  opposition,  in  order  to 
dismiss  it.  Had  he  not  suffered  enough  in  this 
matter? 

At  night,  when  he  lay  sleepless,  he  represented 
to  himself  how  good  his  father  had  always  been; 
but  as  that  did  not  feel  sufficient,  he  resorted  to 
the  young  girl  who  was  also  up  in  the  mountains 
now  at  a  saeter.  How  pretty  she  had  been  last 
Christmas  when  they  danced  together!  People 
whispered  and  pointed  at  them.  But  why  had  he 
thought  so  little  about  her  since?  "I'm  too  old- 
fashioned,"  he  thought;  "I  live  in  books  and 
great  ideas,  and  meanwhile  the  good  years  are 
passing,  and  I  haven't  lived  the  life  of  youth. 
But  there  is  sunshine  in  the  world,  too,  thank 
goodness." 

These  thoughts  helped  him  to  make  the  young 
girl's  stay  in  the  mountains  still  more  important, 
and  at  length  he  fell  asleep  in  the  middle  of  a 
dance  with  her,  just  as  at  Christmas. 

The  day  following,  when  he  went  for  a  walk 
over  the  hill,  he  frequently  stopped  to  look  at 
Buvik  Saeter.  It  lay  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake 
just  below  the  snow-field,  at  a  distance  of  some 
three  or  four  miles.  "Perhaps  he's  already  in 
prison"  was  the  thought  that  cut  through  him; 
but  he  still  looked  up  oftener  and  oftener  towards 
Buvik  Saeter,  which  had  now  acquired  much 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  211 

greater  importance  than  before.  Smoke  was  ris- 
ing from  the  little  grey  houses;  perhaps  she  was 
preparing  her  dinner. 

As  the  days  passed,  his  thoughts  were  continu- 
ally occupied  with  the  young  girl,  as  he  then  had 
no  time  to  think  of  anything  unpleasant  or  pain- 
ful. He  was  no  longer  alone ;  there  were  he  and 
she,  they  two  alone  in  the  mountains.  Two  eyes 
always  seemed  to  be  resting  on  him  from  some- 
thing beautiful  close  by.  They  were  so  near  one 
another,  because  they  were  many  miles  from  the 
valley.  He  might  go  there  on  a  visit,  but  he 
would  prefer  that  they  should  meet  by  chance, 
perhaps  down  on  the  lake. 

He  often  fished  along  the  shore  on  the  other 
side,  but  he  never  saw  her;  and  when  he  rowed 
home  he  laughed  at  himself  for  actually  being 
disappointed  and  sad. 

He  had  to  keep  her  continually  in  his  thoughts 
in  order  to  feel  quite  calm.  The  mountains  seemed 
to  acquire  a  peculiar  grandeur.  One  evening  he 
rowed  out  to  a  little  island,  and  lighted  a  large 
bonfire ;  but  still  no  boat  came  rowing  out ;  only 
the  silent  shores  looked  on.  He  no  longer  went 
about  in  wooden  shoes,  however;  and  he  always 
took  care  that  his  shirt  and  his  hands  were  clean. 
Not  because  he  expected  any  one,  but  because 
there  was  always  something  beautiful  within  him, 
for  which  he  had  to  adorn  himself. 

At  last  one  day  a  man  came  up  from  the  valley 


21£  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

with  a  pack-horse,  and  before  Einar  could  prevent 
him,  he  had  told  him  that  Wangen  was  sentenced 
to  a  year's  hard  labour.  The  punishment  had 
been  increased,  because  he  had  produced  a  forged 
letter  in  court. 

Einar  sat  on  the  doorstep  and  heard  this.  He 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  sat  motion- 
less. 

"And  I  think  of  going  on  with  my  studies! 
I,  who  can  never  look  any  one  in  the  face  again !" 

It  was  a  beautiful  day,  with  a  clear  sky  above 
the  brown  moors  and  distant  blue  mountain  ridges, 
and  the  snow-fields  lay  shining  like  silver  in  the 
sun. 

In  the  evening  Einar  went  down  to  the  lake 
and  pushed  off  the  boat.  He  had  thought  for  a 
time  that  the  whole  world  was  extinguished,  and 
that  he  ought  to  jump  into  the  water  because  he 
was  too  full  of  shame  to  live.  But  from  force 
of  habit  he  once  more  recalled  the  young  girl  to 
his  mind;  and  just  because  he  himself  now  stood 
so  immeasurably  low,  it  seemed  to  him  that  she 
stood  high — high,  and  stretched  out  her  hands 
to  rescue  him.  He  rowed  slowly  over  the  smooth 
water,  in  the  middle  of  which  the  red  sky  was 
reflected.  Twilight  enveloped  the  silent  shores  in 
a  light  haze.  The  houses  and  the  green  fold  of 
Norby  Saeter  were  reflected  in  the  water,  and  in 
the  wake  of  the  boat  lay  two  rows  of  rings  in  the 
water,  left  by  the  dip  of  his  oars. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  213 

Gradually  he  seemed  to  enter  a  peaceful  land, 
and  at  last  he  shipped  the  oars,  and  let  the  boat 
drift.  Gradually  the  world  grew  large  and 
radiant.  The  moors  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 
Everybody  was  happy  in  the  main. 

"Good  heavens!"  he  thought.  "Now  I'm  be- 
ginning to  understand  what  love  is." 


CHAPTER  VII 

ONE  Saturday  afternoon,  Thora  of  Lidarende 
went  out  towards  the  Sound.  It  was  in  hay- 
making time,  and  the  mowers  were  on  the  hills, 
making  the  hay  into  cocks  for  the  evening.  The 
fresh  scent  of  hay  was  wafted  through  the  air. 
Lake  Mjosen  lay  still  and  clear,  so  that  Fru 
Thora  could  see  the  stony  bottom  a  long  way  out. 

She  turned  up  the  avenue  to  the  big  parish 
school  building,  entered  the  yard,  and  hastened 
up  the  steps,  for  there  were  others  she  must 
manage  to  call  on  to-day. 

Although  the  principal  was  occupied  for  the 
time  being  with  some  pupils  in  dialect,  his  wife 
went  and  fetched  him  when  she  heard  that  Fru 
Thora  had  come  on  an  important  errand;  and 
soon  they  were  all  three  sitting  round  a  table  in 
the  large,  comfortable  drawing-room,  with  port 
wine  in  front  of  them. 

Principal  Heggen  was  a  man  of  about  fifty 
years  of  age,  with  a  bald  head,  a  long  brown 
beard,  and  spectacles.  He  had  a  fine,  high  fore- 
head, and  nice  eyes.  He  was  well  known  for  his 
kind  disposition,  and  as  he  was  most  unsuspect- 
ing, he  loved  many  things.  As  regarded  religion, 
he  was  a  warm  advocate  of  a  national  Chris- 
tianity. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  215 

"Yes,  I've  come  on  an  important  errand  to- 
day," said  Fru  Thora,  sipping  her  glass. 

Both  the  schoolmaster  and  his  wife  looked 
attentively  at  her.  She  continued  with  a  smile 
as  she  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other: 

"It's  in  connection  with  recent  events.  It  has 
been  a  sad  time,  and  a  disgrace  to  the  district." 

"Yes,"  said  Fru  Heggen,  shaking  her  head  as 
she  knitted. 

"But  we  who  sit  here  have  got  off  fairly  well. 
I  only  got  sneered  at  a  little  in  the  papers  because 
I  was  rude  enough  to  wish  to  take  one  of  their 
children  for  a  time ;  and  you,  Heggen,  have  been 
found  fault  with  because  you  remained  neutral." 
Fru  Thora  could  not  help  laughing. 

"Poor  man !"  said  the  schoolmaster,  playing 
with  his  beard. 

"Ye-es !  It's  hard  on  him,  and  we  won't  judge 
Wangen,"  said  she,  "but  as  long  as  we  live  in  an 
orderly  community,  I  suppose  we  have  the  right 
to  some  protection;  and  it  doesn't  do  to  go  on 
as  Wangen  has  done." 

Fru  Heggen  shook  her  head  once  more,  said 
"No,"  and  looked  at  her  husband. 

"But  the  person  who  has  suffered  most  during 
this  time,  dear  friends,  is  Norby;  and  I've  come 
to  propose  that  we  make  him  some  reparation  in 
one  form  or  another." 

Heggen  rose,  and  left  the  table  in  order  to  fill 
himself  a  pipe,  which  he  slowly  lighted,  and  then 


216  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

returned  to  the  table  and  seated  himself.  Out  of 
doors  the  sun  was  beginning  to  set,  and  sent 
golden  beams  in  to  them  through  the  tree-tops 
in  the  garden. 

"Well,  what  did  you  think  of  doing?"  Heggen 
finally  asked,  while  he  endeavoured  to  make  his 
pipe  draw. 

Fru  Thora  coloured  a  little.  She  had  expected 
that  she  would  meet  with  opposition  here,  so  she 
had  come  here  first.  She  braced  herself,  and  con- 
tinued courageously: 

"Well,  we  see  what  our  great  politicians,  for 
instance,  do  when  one  of  their  number  has  been 
exposed  to  unjust  attacks.  They  give  him  a  ban- 
quet. And  I  think  we  might  give  a  little  festive 
entertainment  for  Norby;  it  might  be  as  simple 
as  possible." 

Heggen  and  his  wife  looked  at  one  another. 

"Ye-es,"  said  he;  but  with  a  slightly  embar- 
rassed smile. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  which  Fru  Thora 
dared  not  allow  to  become  too  long. 

"With  reference  to  the  heart  of  the  matter," 
she  said,  "you,  too,  believe,  do  you  not,  that  Norby 
was  altogether  in  the  right?" 

"Yes,"  said  Heggen,  shaking  his  head  a  little. 
There  seemed  to  be  something  he  would  not 
say. 

"Yes,"  said  Fru  Heggen,  too ;  "he's  said  from 
the  very  first  that  Wangen  was  guilty,  and  Heg- 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  217 

gen  has  a  wonderful  power  of  judgment  in  such 
cases." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Fru  Thora,  "I  hope  you 
won't  let  old  disagreements  stand  in  the  way  this 
time.  We  ought  really  to  begin  to  appreciate  the 
worth  of  others  than  those  we  always  agree  with." 

"Oh  dear  yes!"  said  Heggen  eagerly.  "But 
whom  did  you  think  of  asking  to  join?" 

Fru  Thora  laid  her  pretty  hand  upon  the  table, 
as  if  to  give  more  emphasis  to  her  words. 

"All  who  wish  to.  The  authorities,  peasants — 
all  without  difference.  Wouldn't  it  be  nice  if 
government  officers  and  country  people  for  once 
joined  hands  and  said;  'One  of  our  best  men  has 
been  persecuted,  and  his  name  sullied;  here  we 
are,  and  we  will  join  hands  and  wash  him  clean 
again.'  An  example  should  really  be  set  to  show 
that  Christianity  and  national  feeling  are  not 
mere  words,  but  that  we  actually  help  a  brother 
when  he  is  in  need." 

"Has  Norby  taken  it  to  heart?"  asked  Heggen, 
with  a  look  of  sympathy. 

"I  don't  know ;  he  is  so  proud,  that  man.  He 
certainly  doesn't  complain.  But  now,  to-day,  my 
brother  in  Bergen  wrote  to  me  and  asked  if  it 
were  really  true  that  Norby  had  defrauded  the 
widow  for  whom  he's  trustee !  That's  the  way  ill- 
natured  remarks  spread ;  and  how  much  wouldn't 
a  man  lose  by  such  things !" 

"Oh  yes,"  sighed  Fru  Heggen ;  "there's  always 


218  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

some  one  ready  to  repeat  an  ill-natured  thing." 

"And  there's  one  thing  we  must  be  all  agreed 
about,"  continued  Fru  Thora,  "and  that  is  that 
a  better  head  of  a  family  and  master  than  Norby 
is  not  to  be  found  in  the  district.  Where  will  you 
find  any  one  so  good  to  his  old  servants  and 
men?" 

The  schoolmaster  thought  it  over,  and  the 
warm  appreciation  of  Norby's  goodness  to  his 
farm-servants  touched  him  and  overcame  his  last 
scruples. 

"Well,  I'm  quite  willing  to  join,"  he  said.  "But 
who  is  to  make  the  speech?"  he  thought  to  him- 
self. 

"Yes,"  said  Fru  Thora,  taking  another  sip  of 
wine.  "But  you  aren't  going  to  be  let  off  so 
easily.  You  will  have  to  make  the  speech.  No 
one  can  do  it  so  well." 

"I?"  said  Heggen,  his  brow  flushing;  but  he 
finally  agreed.  If  a  few  words  were  to  be  said 
in  honour  of  Fru  Norby,  perhaps  Fru  Thora  of 
Lidarende  might  attempt  them. 

When  she  left,  she  felt  relieved  and  happy  at 
having  succeeded  here.  Now  the  rest  would  be 
easily  managed;  and  she  hastened  down  the  ave- 
nue as  briskly  as  a  young  girl,  while  the  last  rays 
of  the  sun  fell  through  the  leaves  upon  her  light 
dress. 

With  no  suspicion  of  Fru  Thora's  plan,  Knut 
Norby  was  sitting  that  day  hard  at  work  with 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  219 

his  accounts.  He  had  at  last  fallen  again  into 
his  old  ways.  He  had  wasted  so  much  time  on  all 
that  nonsense  with  Wangen  that  there  must  be 
an  end  of  this ;  he  must  set  to  work  and  make  up 
for  what  he  had  lost. 

His  hair  had  grown  a  little  greyer  during  the 
last  few  months,  and  he  was  pale  and  tired;  it 
had  been  rather  trying,  the  way  things  had 
gone  on. 

When  he  had  finished  and  gone  out  on  to  the 
steps  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  Ingeborg  came 
up  to  him,  and  told  him,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
that  the  old  dairymaid  was  dead. 

Norby  put  his  pipe  in  his  waistcoat  pocket  and 
went  across  with  her  to  the  little  cottage.  The 
two  old  farm  men  were  sitting  by  the  bed  in  the 
little  room,  looking  straight  before  them,  with 
their  large  coarse  hands  folded  between  their 
knees.  The  eyes  of  the  one  who  had  been 
engaged  over  and  over  again  to  the  dairymaid 
were  wet. 

Norby,  too,  stood  and  looked  at  the  old  dead 
servant  with  trembling  lips. 

That  afternoon  he  went  up  over  the  hills  to  the 
little  cottage  where  Lars  Kleven's  widow  sat  sor- 
rowful. When  he  entered — he  had  to  stoop  under 
the  ceiling — the  old  woman  was  sitting  by  her 
spinning-wheel.  She  rose  in  alarm,  -thinking, 
"He's  come  to  take  the  cottage  from  me  after 
all." 


220  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

"How  are  you?"  asked  Norby,  sitting  down 
with  his  stick  between  his  knees. 

"Thank  God,  I  can't  complain  of  my  health," 
she  said  timidly,  "but  I'm  dreading  the  winter." 

"Well,  the  dairymaid's  leaving  us  now,"  said 
the  old  man,  "and  her  little  room  will  be  empty. 
If  you  can  be  satisfied  with  it,  you  can  move  into 
it  for  the  rest  of  your  days.  I  think  they  clean 
it  to-day,  so  it'll  be  ready  to-morrow.  And  your 
cow  and  fowls — yes — you  can  bring  them  with 
you.  There's  room  enough." 

The  old  woman  folded  her  hands  and  gazed  at 
him  in  amazement  for  a  little  while,  before  she 
sank  down  and  burst  into  tears.  But  at  that 
Norby  left ;  he  did  not  like  tears. 

As  he  trudged  homewards  he  had  no  feeling  of 
having  done  anything  good;  he  had  only  moved 
a  thing  into  its  proper  place.  It  is  true  her 
husband  had  let  himself  be  tempted  by  Wangen 
and  his  people,  but  he,  poor  fellow,  lay  in  his 
grave  now,  and  there  was  nothing  more  to  be 
said  about  that. 

On  the  hill  he  sat  down  and  looked  out  over 
the  valley,  which  lay  bathed  in  the  last  gleams 
of  sunshine,  with  long,  blue  shadows  over  the  lake. 
He  sat  there  for  some  time,  his  hands  resting  upon 
his  stick. 

He  felt  as  if  he  had  come  into  a  haven  after  a 
long  storm.  They  had  been  evil  days  and  sleep- 
less nights;  but  one  could  not  expect  to  have 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  221 

things  always  go  well.  They  had  tried  every  pos- 
sible way  to  injure  him — lies  and  slander,  news- 
paper vulgarity,  riots  at  his  farm,  and — influenc- 
ing Einar.  Well,  well,  the  boy  should  never  hear 
the  slightest  allusion  to  that  matter. 

But  there  was  one  thing  that  the  old  man  could 
hardly  help  laughing  at,  and  that  was  that  at  one 
time  he  had  really  thought  that  his  own  hands 
were  not  quite  clean.  He  smiled  now  and  shook 
his  head ;  it  was  too  funny.  He  remembered,  too, 
now,  that  at  that  dinner  in  town  Wangen  had 
asked  him  to  stand  surety.  But  that  they  had 

then  gone  to  the  Grand  and  signed ?  It  was 

incredible  audacity  to  say  such  a  thing ! 

It  was  what  his  wife  always  said — he  was  often 
too  kind-hearted,  especially  in  good  company ;  and 
because  he  was  kind-hearted,  he  had  believed  that 
if  Wangen  could  go  and  say  he  had  stood  surety 
there  must  be  something  in  it.  He  did  not  know 
then  what  a  scoundrel  the  fellow  was. 

And  now  at  last  there  would  be  peace  in  the 
district  again,  and  labour  conditions  would  be 
decent  once  more.  Perhaps  some  people  believed 
some  of  the  calumnies  about  him.  Well,  let  them 
believe  them !  He  lived  on  his  farm,  and  cared  for 
no  one. 

But  it  was  hard  on  Wangen's  wife.  They  said 
she  had  taken  to  her  bed  after  the  trial. 

When  Norby  got  home  he  found  Fru  Thora  of 
Lidarende  in  the  drawing-room.  She  had  come  to 


222  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

say  that  half  the  district,  with  the  authorities 
at  their  head,  had  subscribed  to  a  dinner  in  his 
honour. 

"Nonsense!"  he  said,  laughing;  for  at  first  he 
would  not  believe  it  at  all,  but  when  she  asked 
what  day  would  suit  him,  he  sighed  and  consid- 
ered. It  must  be  true  then. 

In  a  little  while  he  answered:  "Well — I  can't 
go  to  any  sort  of  entertainment  as  long  as  some 
one  is  lying  dead  here." 

Marit  Norby  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  but 
understood  at  once  that  it  would  be  useless  to 
dispute  the  matter. 

When  Fru  Thora  went  away  she  was  almost 
disappointed  because  the  old  man  had  not  been 
more  touched  by  the  dinner.  "It's  possible  to  be 
too  proud,"  she  thought. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHEN  at  length  the  day  for  the  dinner  could  be 
fixed,  it  became  a  busy  time  for  Fru  Thora.  She 
managed  to  get  it  agreed  to,  that  for  once  they 
should  try  to  kindle  exhilaration  without  the  aid 
of  strong  drink;  there  should  be  only  home-made 
wine  and  milk.  To  make  up  for  this,  she  got  hold 
of  the  best  members  of  the  young  men's  club,  and 
began  to  rehearse  a  play  that  was  to  be  acted 
after  the  dinner.  She  also  intended  to  decorate 
the  walls  of  the  large  town-hall,  in  which  the 
dinner  was  to  be  held,  in  a  way  that  would  form 
a  suitable  frame  to  the  guest  of  honour. 

When  at  last  the  great  day  arrived  she  was 
both  worn-out  and  nervous;  for,  as  usual  when 
one  person  is  energetic  and  throws  himself  heart 
and  soul  into  a  matter,  the  other  members  of  the 
dinner-committee  had  sat  down  and  left  every- 
thing to  her. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  day  she  heard  that 
Fru  Wangen  was  still  confined  to  her  bed ;  where- 
upon Fru  Thora  very  quickly  made  up  her  mind 
that  she  could  not  take  part  in  any  gaiety  that 
evening  without  first  having  inquired  about  the 
poor  woman.  If  there  was  nothing  else  to  be 
done,  she  would  offer  to  take  her  in  for  a  time, 
and  the  children  with  her. 


224  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

When  she  came  to  the  little  cottage  among  the 
fir-trees  in  which  the  Wangens  had  last  lived,  she 
found  the  door  locked  and  the  shutters  before  the 
windows.  An  uncomfortable  fear  made  her 
actually  run  up  to  the  farm,  where  she  met  a  girl 
who  was  drawing  up  water  from  a  well. 

"Where  is  Fru  Wangen?"  she  asked. 

"She  is  up  in  an  attic  here,"  said  the  girl. 

"I  suppose  I  can  go  up  to  her?" 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  Fru  Wangen  would 
not  even  speak  to  the  master ;  and  both  the  priest 
and  the  doctor  had  come  to  see  her,  and  she  would 
not  see  either  of  them. 

"Oh,  but  do  go  up  and  tell  her  it's  me!"  said 
Fru  Thora. 

The  girl  took  the  bucket  and  went;  but  when 
she  came  out  on  to  the  steps  again,  she  shook 
her  head.  Fru  Wangen  wanted  to  be  alone.  Be- 
sides, the  girl  then  added,  she  had  got  up  and  was 
going  to  see  her  children. 

"But  what  is  she  going  to  do  now?"  asked  Fru 
Thora. 

"Nobody  knows,"  said  the  girl.  "She  doesn't 
say  a  word  about  it." 

Fru  Thora  had  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  went 
homewards.  Of  course  this  dinner  for  Norby 
must  wound  Fru  Wangen,  but  it  really  could  not 
be  helped.  Guilt  is  guilt,  and  reparation  must  be 
made  to  the  innocent. 

It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  the  dinner  was 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  225 

at  seven.  The  last  loads  of  hay  had  been  driven 
in  from  the  fields,  and  the  well-raked  hills  had 
taken  on  a  soft,  dark  green  colour;  while  the 
leafy  slopes  had  here  and  there  begun  to  get 
golden  patches,  upon  which  the  sun  shone. 

When,  at  about  six  o'clock,  the  first  carriages 
drove  up  towards  the  town-hall,  they  met  near 
the  fjord  a  tall,  pale  woman,  hurrying  along  with 
bent  head.  It  was  Fru  Wangen.  Her  little,  faded 
straw  hat  seemed  to  have  been  put  on  in  a  hurry, 
and  stood  off  too  much  from  her  head,  raised  by 
the  quantity  of  fair  hair  that  still  lay  like  a 
crown  above  her  pale  beautiful  face. 

When  she  got  out  to  the  ridge  that  descends 
steeply  to  the  fjord,  she  saw  no  more  carriages  in 
front  of  her,  and  seated  herself  upon  a  stone  by 
the  wayside.  She  rested  her  elbows  on  her  knees, 
and  her  chin  in  her  hands,  and  gazed  out  over 
the  fjord  whose  calm  surface  reflected  the  red 
clouds  in  the  sky. 

When  she  had  seen  the  children,  where  should 
she  go? — what  should  she  do?  Could  she  keep 
both  herself  and  them?  Or — Oh  no,  she  ought  not 
to  think  of  that  now;  for  thinking  was  what  she 
could  not  and  dared  not  do.  She  passed  her  hand 
across  her  forehead  and  sighed.  "I  must  take 
care,"  she  thought,  "that  what  is  in  there  doesn't 
get  loose,  for  then  I  might  go  mad;  and  then  I 
shouldn't  be  allowed  even  to  see  the  children." 

She  had  had  a  letter  from  Wangen  that  day; 


226  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

he  said  that  he  was  trying  to  obtain  a  pardon. 
But  she  was  not  equal  to  further  faith ;  she  could 
not  believe  in  his  innocence  any  more.  If  he  had 
only  confessed  it  at  first,  at  any  rate  to  her !  But 
now!  Her  father  had  been  right.  Her  father! 
The  whole  thing  overwhelmed  her  like  a  terrible 
darkness. 

Suddenly  she  started  up  and  hurried  on.  She 
must  manage  to  reach  the  children  before  dark, 
for  she  dared  not  be  out  alone  when  it  was  dark. 

When  the  carriage  drove  down  the  avenue  from 
Norby  Farm,  the  two  daughters  sat  opposite 
their  parents,  and  Einar  with  the  coachman  on 
the  box.  Einar  had  come  home  quite  unexpect- 
edly. That  evening  when  he  rowed  across  to 
Buvik  Saeter  he  had  met  with  a  great  disappoint- 
ment. The  doctor's  daughter  had  left  for  the 
valley  that  afternoon. 

From  that  time  Einar  found  it  unbearable  up 
on  the  mountains.  It  was  no  help  now,  in  his 
expeditions  over  the  moors,  to  look  over  to  Buvik 
Sseter.  The  disgrace  he  had  fled  from  now  met 
him  both  out  of  doors  and  indoors ;  and  his  eager- 
ness to  reach  this  young  woman  thereby  became 
greater  than  ever.  So  he  packed  up  his  things 
and  set  off.  He  must  catch  her  up;  he  must 
know  for  a  certainty  whether  she  cared  for  him 
or  not. 

At  home  he  settled  down  in  a  wonderful  way. 
The  good  conscience  that  every  one  there  had  was 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  227 

infectious;  and  he  could  not  but  feel  glad  that 
his  parents  should  now  be  rewarded  for  all  their 
troubles  with  this  dinner.  It  was  high  time  that 
he,  too,  gave  up  his  ugly  suspicion. 

As  he  sat  upon  the  box,  he  gazed  at  the  car- 
riages that  were  driving  up  to  the  flag-decorated 
town-hall.  Would  she  be  there  this  evening? 

Marit  Norby  looked  handsome  as  she  sat  lean- 
ing a  little  towards  her  husband,  dressed  in  a  silk 
dress  and  light  straw  bonnet.  Knut,  however, 
was  by  no  means  happy;  for  as  he  grew  to  feel 
himself  more  and  more  firmly  in  the  right,  he  had 
become  more  indifferent  to  the  respect  of  the 
district.  Fancy  if  people  were  making  this  fuss 
because  they  were  sorry  for  him!  In  that  case 
he  would  like  to  tell  them  that  they  were  mistaken. 
There  was  nothing  the  matter  with  him  yet. 
Nevertheless  as  he  saw  carriage  after  carriage 
drive  up  to  the  town-hall  a  smile  played  about 
the  corners  of  his  mouth ;  for  he  was  thinking  of 
Mads  Herlufsen.  Would  he  come?  Or  was  he 
sitting  at  home  sulking?  In  that  case  Norby 
would  like  to  see  him. 

As  they  drove  into  the  yard  of  the  town-hall, 
Einar  saw  the  doctor's  gig  driving  away.  There 
was  room  for  only  two  in  it,  the  doctor  and  his 
wife,  so  she  was  not  there.  He  had  been  so 
anxious  about  this  for  days  and  nights  past  that 
the  disappointment  was  very  great,  and  for  a 
moment  he  lost  all  desire  to  go  in.  Something 


2£8  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

awoke  in  him,  that  shook  him  and  said:  "What 
are  you  about,  Einar?" 

Between  two  flags  on  the  steps  stood  the  bailiff 
and  Fru  Thora  of  Lidarende  to  receive  the  guests 
of  honour;  and  Einar  slowly  followed  the  others 
up  the  steps. 

Laura,  who  to-day  was  wearing  her  first  light 
silk  dress,  grew  suddenly  red  when  she  noticed  a 
beardless  youth  standing  in  the  passage  and  look- 
ing at  her.  It  was  the  bailiff's  son,  who  had  just 
taken  his  degree  in  forestry.  "I  wonder  if  he  will 
take  me  in  to  dinner!"  she  thought,  her  heart 
beginning  to  beat. 

The  only  person  who  lived  in  the  town-hall 
building  was  the  midwife  of  the  district,  who  had 
two  rooms  in  one  wing.  There  the  pastor's  wife 
was  now  busy,  at  the  head  of  a  flock  of  maids, 
serving  the  dinner.  She  was  both  angry  and  in 
despair,  because  the  Railway  Hotel,  which  was 
providing  the  dinner,  had  forgotten  to  send  gravy 
with  the  joint,  and  now  a  servant  came  and  said 
that  Norby  had  come,  and  that  people  were  sit- 
ting down  to  table. 

"Who's  asked  them  to  sit  down  to  table?"  cried 
the  pastor's  wife.  "A  nice  dinner-committee  they 
are !"  And  she  rushed  to  the  telephone  and  rang 
up  violently.  "Hullo !  Are  you  never  going  to  let 
us  have  that  gravy?" 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHEN  Norby  entered  the  hall,  the  first  thing  he 
noticed  was  that  Herlufsen  was  not  among  the 
guests;  but  all  the  other  magnates  were  there, 
and  there  was  a  general  greeting  when  he  ap- 
peared. 

It  was  a  large,  airy  hall,  and  the  setting  sun 
shone  through  the  long  windows  that  looked  out 
upon  the  fjord,  and  formed  three  broad  bands 
of  light  across  the  floor,  upon  which  the  festively 
attired  guests  moved,  either  through  the  dark  or 
through  the  gold.  There  was  a  hum  of  conversa- 
tion, and  there  was  a  continual  cracking  of  whips 
outside,  where  fresh  carriages  were  driving  up  to 
the  steps,  or  off  towards  the  roads. 

Among  the  dress-coated  farmers,  who  cau- 
tiously kept  close  to  the  walls,  while  they  glanced 
at  the  long  table  decorated  with  flowers,  strutted 
the  owner  of  the  saw-mills,  a  stout  man,  with  a 
gold  chain  dangling  upon  his  expansive  waist- 
coat. He  laughed  loudly,  and  his  red  face  shone ; 
for  when  he  had  heard  that  there  was  nothing  to 
be  got  here  but  home-made  wine,  he  had  indulged 
a  little  before  he  left  home.  "Ladies  and  gentle- 
men," he  said,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  "I  don't 
think  you're  in  a  properly  festive  mood  yet." 

The  magistrate,  a  stout  man  with  silvery  hair 


230  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

and  beard,  took  Norby  by  the  arm  and  pointed 
out  the  walls.  They  were  decorated  with  flags 
and  garlands  of  leaves;  and  here  and  there,  in 
place  of  arms,  were  old,  artistic,  domestic  articles, 
such  as  painted  and  carved  harness  and  saddles, 
wooden  spoons  and  bowls  with  flowers  painted  on 
them.  Fru  Thora  had  lent  the  rudiments  of  her 
country  museum. 

"Look  here !"  said  the  magistrate,  with  a  pleas- 
ant little  laugh.  "Isn't  that  pretty?  There's 
Norwegian  nature  in  the  greenery,  freedom  in  the 
flags,  and  our  northern  culture  in  all  the  rest. 
The  combination  forms  a  beautiful  harmony." 

"Yes,  it's  quite  pretty,"  said  Norby,  with  a 
slight  yawn.  Suddenly  he  felt  his  coat-tails 
pulled,  and  turning  round  he  found  two  old 
acquaintances  smiling  at  him,  both  farmers  from 
up  the  valley,  who  had  been  jurymen  at  the  trial. 

"What,  have  you  come  all  this  way?"  said 
Norby,  taking  them  by  the  hand. 

They  told  him  that  Wangen  was  supposed  to 
be  busy  upon  a  fresh  newspaper  article,  which 
accused  the  jurymen  of  partiality,  and  when  they 
heard  that,  they  were  so  angry  that — that  they 
set  their  teeth,  and  came  to  the  dinner  too. 

But  now  Norby  was  led  to  the  table.  At  one 
end  of  the  long  table  a  kind  of  raised  seat  had 
been  arranged  for  the  guest  of  honour;  and  on 
one  side  of  him  sat  his  wife,  on  the  other  the  wife 
of  the  magistrate.  When  he  looked  down  the 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  231 

table,  at  all  the  handsome  women  in  gay  silk 
bodices,  and  male  notorieties  with  wide  shirt- 
fronts,  he  could  not  help  turning  his  head  to  his 
wife  and  whispering:  "This  is  just  like  what  we 
had  at  our  silver  wedding." 

During  the  soup,  Einar  got  into  a  discussion 
with  a  member  of  the  Storthing,  who  sat  opposite 
him.  Several  others  took  part  in  the  discussion, 
and  Einar  grew  angry,  but  suddenly  he  felt  as  if 
an  invisible  hand  had  struck  him,  and  a  voice 
within  him  said:  "Yes,  be  severe  in  your  judgment 
of  others,  Einar,  you  who  are  such  a  hero  your- 
self !"  And  he  instantly  bowed  his  head  and  was 
silent ;  and  he  felt  the  blood  mount  to  his  face. 

Laura,  true  enough,  had  been  paired  with  the 
bailiff's  son;  and  though  he  had  not  yet  noticed 
her  new  dress,  she  still  felt  that  everything  was 
wrapped  in  a  wonderful  golden  mist,  and  she 
had  a  vague  notion  that  this  was  her  own  wed- 
ding. 

"After  dinner  you  must  help  me  with  some- 
thing," he  said  to  her. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  curiously,  as  she  tried 
to  push  an  obstinate  wave  of  hair  off  her  fore- 
head. 

"I  won't  tell  you  now.    You  must  wait." 

When  the  joint  was  served,  the  schoolmaster 
rose  and  tapped  his  glass.  This  was  Fru  Thora's 
great  moment,  and  she  felt  her  heart  beat  with 
joy  and  pride,  for  there  had  been  so  much  ill-will 


232  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

between  the  schoolmaster  Heggen  and  Knut 
Norby.  Now  Heggen  was  standing  there,  and 
was  going  to  make  a  speech  in  honour  of  his 
enemy.  This  was  her  work.  And  there  had  been 
many  misunderstandings  between  the  schoolmas- 
ter and  the  old  magistrate;  but  she  had  made 
Heggen  take  the  magistrate's  daughter  in  to 
dinner;  for  they  should  all  be  friends  this  even- 
ing, and  learn  to  understand  one  another. 

Looking  at  the  speaker,  "Isn't  he  handsome?" 
she  whispered  to  the  gentleman  who  had  taken 
her  in.  The  sun  was  just  sinking,  and  its  last 
rays  played  upon  the  glass  on  the  table,  and 
made  the  tulips  in  the  large  bouquets  glow. 

Forks  were  laid  down  and  faces  turned  towards 
the  schoolmaster's  tall  figure.  His  voice  vibrated 
with  emotion,  and  Fru  Thora  thought  she  had 
never  heard  him  speak  so  beautifully  as  now 
when  he  was  making  a  speech  in  honour  of  his 
old  enemy.  He  called  this  dinner  an  event  in  the 
district.  He  held  his  glass  in  one  hand,  and  with 
the  other  fingered  his  long  beard,  and  looked  at 
nothing  in  particular  through  his  spectacles,  while 
the  sun  threw  a  ray  of  light  across  his  fine  fore- 
head. 

This  was  an  event,  because  he  had  never  seen 
so  many  dissimilar  people  united  in  a  common 
object,  a  common  desire  to  do  good.  There  were 
still  Birkebeins  and  Baglers  to  divide  people  in 
this  country;  but  this  evening  he  seemed  to  read 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  233 

a  message  of  spring  in  this  festive  meeting.  Like 
Olaf  at  Stiklestad,  he  seemed  to  be  looking  out 
over  the  whole  country  with  its  blue  hills  and 
shining  fjords,  over  farms  and  lands,  and  into 
the  many  minds;  and  he  described  the  day  when 
all  men  would  be  united  in  a  sabbath  atmosphere, 
with  hands  joined  in  brotherhood,  united  in 
waging  war  against  the  powers  of  evil,  united  in 
helping  those  who  had  suffered  wrong.  "What- 
ever religion  we  profess,  or  party  we  belong  to, 
we  shall  henceforth  agree  in  considering  that  the 
f  human  in  man  is  higher  than  all  difference  of 
\  opinion;  and  when  the  human  being,  Norby, 
\  suffers  persecution  and  derogation,  as  he  has 
lately  done,  we  hasten  to  him,  enclose  him  in  a 
chain  of  fraternity,  and  say:  'Here  are  we,  your 
brothers  and  sisters,  Knut  Norby;  we  will  wash 
you  clean.  Here  we  are ! '  " 

Scarcely  a  breath  was  heard  during  the  im- 
pressive speech,  until  the  sound  of  gentle  weeping 
was  heard  a  little  way  up  the  table.  It  was  Fru 
Heggen,  who  always  cried  when  her  husband  made 
a  speech. 

Gradually  several  faces  turned  from  the  speaker 
to  the  guests  of  the  evening.  Fru  Norby  sat 
with  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  smiled ;  but  Norby 
looked  down,  and  modestly  shook  his  head,  as 
if  to  say,  "You  mustn't  say  anything  more, 
Heggen" 

When  at  length  the  speech  came  to  an  end, 


234  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

and  the  guests  rose  to  drink  with  the  guests  of 
honour,  the  saw-mill  owner  roared:  "Long  live 
Norby  and  Fru  Norby!  Hip,  hip!"  And  his 
abandonment  to  the  spirit  of  the  occasion  was 
quickly  followed,  and  the  hurrahs  rang. 

Ingeborg  sat  and  looked  on  with  tears  in  her 
eyes.  Her  joy  was  unbounded,  she  thought  how 
patiently  her  father  had  borne  all  the  persecution ; 
she  thought  of  her  prayers,  and  involuntarily 
looked  upwards,  saying  to  herself:  "My  God,  I 
thank  Thee  for  answering  my  prayers."  She 
seemed  to  see  a  host  of  good,  protecting  spirits, 
above  the  heads  of  her  parents  up  there.  Her 
mother  looked  at  her;  they  both  had  tears  in 
their  eyes  and  smiled.  They  remembered  the  night 
when  they  dared  not  go  to  bed  after  the  riots  at 
Norby. 

To  Marit  Norby  it  seemed  now  as  if  all  evil,  all 
suspicion  were  melting  and  must  be  wept  out ;  and 
it  felt  so  delightful  that  she  could  not  help  smil- 
ing all  the  time. 

But  worse  was  to  come,  when  Fru  Thora  of 
Lidarende  rose,  after  the  knives  and  forks  had 
clattered  for  a  time,  and  made  a  speech  in  her 
honour.  It  was  a  woman's  and  a  mother's  heart 
beating  with  hers.  Mention  was  made  of  her 
struggle  to  keep  up  her  husband's  courage  in 
adversity,  even  while  she  was  nursing  her  son 
through  a  dangerous  illness.  It  was  a  great  deed, 
a  woman's  heroic  action,  such  as  is  seldom  men- 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  235 

(——-—-—————-——-—-_——________———__—--——______ 
tioned  at  festive  entertainments,  but  is  often,  very 
often  performed  in  secret. 

No  one  had  ever  heard  such  eloquence  in  a 
woman.  She  stood  there,  slim,  youthful  in  ap- 
pearance despite  her  five  and  forty  years,  full 
of  fire  and  warmth  of  feeling.  Her  hearers  were 
astonished  that  this  feeling  did  not  overwhelm  her 
and  make  her  burst  into  tears ;  but  she  stood  and 
smiled  all  the  time,  although  her  eyes  were  wet. 
Every  one  had  to  acknowledge  that  she  was  hand- 
some, in  her  plain  black  dress  and  little  white 
lace  collar  about  her  neck.  It  was  no  wonder 
that  she  showed  feeling,  for  she  was  thinking 
all  the  time  of  her  own  son,  the  little  Gunnar 
of  Lidarende,  who  was  in  bed  with  whooping 
cough. 

The  toasting  and  cheers  for  Fru  Norby  were 
deafening;  but  she  burst  into  audible  weeping, 
for  it  was  true.  It  had  been  a  hard  time. 

At  the  mention  of  his  mother  and  his  illness, 
Einar  was  also  touched,  and  went  up  and  drank 
with  his  parents. 

It  had  gradually  grown  so  dark  that  the  large 
hanging  lamps  over  the  table  had  to  be  lighted; 
and  although  there  was  nothing  but  home-made 
wine,  spirits  had  risen,  so  that  most  of  the  faces 
shone  red  in  the  lamplight,  the  conversation  was 
lively,  and  the  laughter  resounded. 

The  two  jurymen  were  seated  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  table.  One  of  them  now  said  cautiously  to 


236  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

the  other:  "Isn't  it  customary  to  chair  the  guest 
of  honour?" 

"We  mustn't  be  in  a  hurry,"  said  the  other 
as  cautiously. 

"What  was  it  we  called  Norby,  when  we  were 
at  the  agricultural  school  with  him?" 

"Fatty,"  said  the  other,  surreptitiously  taking 
up  a  bone  in  his  fingers.  His  companion  began 
to  laugh;  for  it  was  so  amusing  to  think  that 
they  had  once  been  so  intimate  with  Norby  as  to 
call  him  Fatty. 

But  now  a  silence  fell  on  the  assembly  when 
Norby  himself  tapped  his  glass.  He  rose,  a  little 
red  in  the  face,  and  looked  first  at  Marit  and 
then  at  the  company  assembled.  His  voice  was 
hoarse  when  he  said :  "I  must  return  thanks  both 
for  myself  and  my  wife.  And  now  I  will  ask  you 
to  drink  to  the  health  of  one  of  whom  I  cannot 
help  thinking  this  evening — the  judge."  And 
when  the  health  had  been  drunk,  Fru  Thora  cried 
enthusiastically:  "Long  live  the  judge!  Long 
live  the  jury !" 

This  evoked  loud  applause,  and  the  saw-mill 
owner  led  the  enthusiasm  with  his  hip,  hip.  One 
of  the  jurymen  started  up,  saying:  "Come!  Now 
we'll  take  him!"  "Don't  be  in  a  hurry!"  said 
the  other.  "Yes,"  said  the  first.  "We'll  show 
people  that  we  repudiate  Wangen's  charge  of 
partiality !" 

At  this  the  other  rose,  too,  and  they  both  stole 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  2S7 

up  to  take  Norby  by  the  arms.  At  first  the  old 
man  resisted  strenuously,  but  when  one  of  the 
jurymen  said:  "Come  now,  Fatty,"  memories  of 
younger  days  were  called  up,  and  he  laughed  and 
gave  in.  The  whole  company  shouted  when  he  was 
carried  round;  and  when  he  had  got  back  to  his 
seat,  Fru  Thora  got  up  and  said  to  a  young 
farmer's  wife :  "Then  Fru  Norby  shall  be  carried 
round  too !"  And  they  rushed  up  and  took  Marit 
by  the  arms,  and  the  enthusiasm  increased,  except 
with  the  saw-mill  owner,  where  it  gradually  began 
to  come  to  a  sad  end.  While  the  others  grew 
merrier  as  they  ate  and  drank  home-made  wine, 
his  spirits  began  to  go  down  more  and  more,  and 
he  whispered  to  the  magistrate :  "Don't  you  think 
we  shall  have  a  little  something  with  the  coffee?" 

The  magistrate  shook  his  head,  and  the  mill- 
owner  sighed  deeply,  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"I  say,"  said  Norby  to  his  wife;  "it's  strange 
that  Herlufsen  isn't  here!" 

"How  naughty  you  are!"  whispered  Marit, 
laughing;  and  the  old  man  chuckled. 

More  speeches  followed,  the  best  being  one  by  a 
young  teacher  in  honour  of  his  country.  The 
national  song  was  then  sung  standing,  several 
taking  parts;  and  finally  Pastor  Borring  rose. 
He  knew  that  he  was  expected  to  say  something, 
and  although  his  presence  had  been  well  consid- 
ered, he  felt  strangely  oppressed.  After  Wangen 
had  made  use  of  a  forged  letter  in  court,  he  under- 


238 


stood  of  course  that  his  first  supposition  had  been 
correct,  and  that  Lars  Eleven's  confession  had 
only  been  the  crotchet  of  a  dying  man ;  but  never- 
theless he  could  not  help  thinking  of  Wangen, 
and  to  the  surprise  of  every  one  he  now  began  to 
speak  of  him.  He  asked  those  present  to  give  a 
sympathetic  thought  to  the  unfortunate  man  who 
was  guilty.  It  had  been  rightly  said  this  evening 
that  they  should  join  hands  round  him  who  is 
innocent.  Quite  right !  But  let  them  also,  if  only 
in  spirit,  at  the  same  time  join  hands  round  him 
who  was  guilty.  He  stood  most  in  need  of  repara- 
tion and  help.  And  his  wife — ;  but  here  the 
pastor  could  say  no  more,  and  sat  down;  and 
there  were  tears  in  several  eyes. 

A  fresh  astonishment  was  created  when  Norby 
tapped  his  glass,  and  rising  said:  "I  propose 
that  we  start  a  list  to  make  a  collection  for  Fru 
Wangen.  I  will  do  what  I  can  myself.  We  must 
remember  that  she  is  left  with  three  children  un- 
provided for !" 

There  was  a  pause  when  he  sat  down.  People 
looked  at  one  another  with  eyes  that  said:  "He's 
a  man  in  a  thousand !" 


CHAPTER  X 

AFTEE  the  sweets  came  coffee,  and  the  conversa- 
tion was  soon  being  carried  on  through  clouds  of 
tobacco-smoke. 

"Do  you  know  who  Norby  is  like?"  said  Fru 
Thora  to  her  neighbour,  who  was  the  magistrate. 

The  magistrate  looked  up  with  his  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  and  answered:  "No — at  least,  yes " 

"Don't  you  see  he's  like  Garibaldi?" 

"Well,  now  you  say  it,"  said  the  magistrate. 

All  down  the  table  the  talk  was  exclusively  of 
Norby.  It  came  naturally.  Two  farmers  told  of 
the  King's  last  journey  through  the  district,  when 
Norby  quietly  went  up  and  took  him  by  the  hand, 
and  bade  him  welcome  to  the  district.  Einar  had 
to  tell  the  bailiff's  wife  about  his  grandfather, 
Ingeborg  was  questioned  about  her  mother;  the 
magistrate  praised  the  old  man  for  his  skill  in 
the  game  of  boston ;  an  estate  administrator  told 
about  a  probate  case  in  which  Norby  was  arbi- 
trator, and  how  clever  he  was  in  bringing  people 
to  reason;  the  doctor  sat  and  talked  about  the 
shape  of  the  old  man's  head,  and  especially  the 
sign  of  race  in  the  forehead.  There  was  a  buzz 
of  homage  in  the  form  of  little  sympathetic 
touches  unearthed  from  the  memories  of  all  pres- 
ent and  held  up  to  view;  and  at  last  the  old 


240  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

man  was  raised  higher  and  higher,  borne  as  it 
were  by  all  that  was  wept,  said,  sung,  and  felt 
there  this  evening — elevated  upon  a  golden  cloud 
of  sympathy  and  admiration. 

Einar  alone  had  grown  coldly  serious  at  the 
pastor's  speech,  and  various  questions  thronged  in 
upon  him.  Through  all  the  rosy  clouds  that  enve- 
loped this  table  he  seemed  to  get  a  glimpse  into — 
something  different. 

The  best  feelings  and  ideals  of  every  one  seemed 
to  have  met  this  evening  to  pay  homage  to  his 
father;  and  he  no  longer  dared  to  think  whether 
his  father  were  the  guilty  one  or  not.  But  if — 
/^Could  it  be  that  the  most  sacred  human  feelings  , 
1  and  ideals  were  completely  blind,  so  that  they  j 
j  could  just  as  easily  lend  themselves  to  glorify  a  / 
crime,  a  black  lie?  Could  it  be?  Surely  not! 
Was  it  no  guarantee  when  people's  words  were 
glowing  with  the  whole  warmth  of  their  heart, 
when  their  eyes  were  wet  and  their  voice  trembled 
with  emotion?  Was  that  so?  Surely  not!  But 
if — Was  it  no  excuse  to  have  done  a  thing  in 
all  good  faith?  For  the  fact  remained  that  if 
people  crowned  the  criminal,  and  threw  the  inno- 
cent into  prison,  good  faith  was  the  most  terrible 
thing  of  all ;  for  it  committed  its  bad  actions  with 
divine  good  conscience,  and  every  one  laid  down 
their  arms  before  it.  Was  it  so?  And  did  all 
such  forces  as  God,  one's  country,  philanthropy, 
Christianity,  lend  themselves  as  garments  to  adorn 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  241 

I  the  wrong-doer  and  honour  the  lie?  No,  no!  it 
'  must  not,  could  not,  be  so.  But  that  was  why 
,;  there  was  so  much  wrong  done  in  the  world.  The 
;  wet  eyes,  the  warm  tones,  the  glowing  hearts, 
I  always  formed  a  defensive  covering  for  that  which 
j  was  bad.  Was  it  so? 

And  what  about  himself?  Had  not  his  best 
feelings  for  his  parents  made  him  a —  He  dared 
not  think  the  word. 

It  must  not,  it  could  not,  be  so!  He  involun- 
tarily wished  there  were  strong  drink  in  his  glass, 
and  that  he  could  drink  himself  into  that  happy 
mood  with  wine  as  the  others  did  with  their 
speeches. 

He  raised  his  glass,  and  tried  to  smile  at  Inge- 
borg.  She  raised  hers  in  return,  while  she 
thought  "Thank  God  that  Einar  was  unde- 
ceived !" 

Suddenly  some  one  said :  "Oh,  look  out  there !" 
Several  rose  from  the  table  and  went  to  the  win- 
dows. Against  the  dark  fjord,  that  reflected  the 
starry  sky,  a  gleaming  rocket  rose  into  the  air, 
while  another  was  already  raining  down  in  fiery 
sparks  of  many  colours.  A  new  one  rose,  and  in 
its  first  brilliant  blaze  Laura  could  be  seen  bare- 
headed and  in  her  silk  dress,  and  by  her  side  the 
bailiff's  son. 

There  were  several  exclamations,  and  Ingeborg 
said:  "Oh  indeed!  That  was  why  Laura  had  a 
headache  and  had  to  go  out !" 


242  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

A  fresh  rocket  blazed  up  and  illuminated  the 
two  standing  in  the  dark,  just  as  Laura  took  hold 
of  the  young  man's  arm  to  draw  him  a  little  way 
from  the  rocket.  It  was  her  first  tender  care  for 
him.  Then  it  was  dark  once  more  about  them, 
while  the  fiery  sparks  rained  down  from  the  sky, 
reflected  all  the  time  in  the  dark,  still  fjord,  into 
which  they  finally  fell. 

"Look!"  cried  those  at  the  windows.  "Oh, 
look !"  "Oh,  that  was  lovely !"  "Both  blue  and 
red !"  And  all  the  time  momentary  flashes  of  light 
gleamed  upon  the  two  young  people,  who  stood 
there  and  sent  up  bright  messengers  into  the  sky 
in  the  still  evening. 

When  at  last  this  was  over  the  lamps  in  the  hall 
were  suddenly  extinguished.  A  tittering  was 
heard,  and  a  few  indignant  ladies'  voices ;  but 
suddenly  a  curtain  was  drawn  aside,  and  revealed 
a  Norwegian  mountain  landscape  illuminated  by 
paraffin  lamps. 

"Goodness  me !"  thought  Einar.  "Are  we  going 
to  have  that  old  play  that  everybody  knows?" 

But  all  at  once  a  young  girl  in  Norwegian 
costume  came  forward  and  began  to  talk  to  an  old 
man.  It  was — Einar  gazed  in  perplexity — it  was 
she !  It  was  the  doctor's  young  daughter.  That 
was  why  she  had  not  been  at  the  dinner,  then. 
She  had  perhaps  been  rehearsing  up  to  the  last 
moment. 

Sore  and  despondent  and  disturbed  as  Einar 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  243 

was  already,  this  surprise  threw  him  into  the 
greatest  agitation.  His  heart  beat,  and  some- 
thing warm  began  to  run  through  his  limbs. 
There  she  was!  And  how  lovely  she  was  in  that 
dress!  And  gradually  the  oil-lamps  turned  into 
sunshine,  and  the  ridiculous  decorations  into 
actual  wood  and  mountain ;  and  the  good  patriotic 
moral  of  the  play  acted  upon  him  with  a  wonder- 
ful power. 

But  when  the  young  girl  went  off  the  stage  the 
piece  seemed  to  lose  its  interest,  and  he  turned  to 
Fru  Thora  with  the  question  whether  there  was 
to  be  dancing  afterwards.  "Yes,"  she  said. 
Good!  He  would  ask  the  doctor  whether  his 
daughter  might  stay,  if  he  promised  to  see  her 
home.  Perhaps  it  might  turn  out  a  wonderful 
evening  for  him  yet. 


CHAPTER  XI 

KNUT  NOEBY  drove  home  through  the  still  night 
with  Marit  and  Ingeborg,  as  the  other  two  stayed 
on  for  the  dancing.  A  golden  moon  had  risen 
above  the  hills  in  the  east,  and  shone  upon  the 
waving  corn-fields  and  the  calm  fjord.  It  was 
such  good  weather  just  now  for  the  crops  that  it 
promised  to  be  a  good  harvest;  and  as  Knut 
sat  there  he  was  filled  with  a  gentle  peace,  and 
felt  a  desire  to  thank  God. 

As  they  passed  the  churchyard,  he  looked  in 
involuntarily.  Who  could  tell  how  soon  he  might 
be  lying  there?  It  was  better  to  make  good  use 
of  the  time  while  one  had  it.  Lars  Kleven  lay 
there  now — he  who  so  wanted  to  lie  quiet  in  his 
grave.  Well,  God  grant  he  might  have  peace! 
And  there  lay  the  dairy-maid  in  her  freshly-made 
grave,  and  was  perhaps  dreaming  now  in  the 
early  morning  that  she  had  to  get  up  to  go  to 
the  cows. 

A  warm  wind  sighed  on  the  leafy  slopes,  and 
brought  a  scent  of  fermenting  hay  from  the  lofts 
about.  Mountain  and  lake  lay  in  a  great  calm 
peace. 

"Thank  God!"  said  Ingeborg,  looking  up  at 
the  stars ;  and  they  all  three  sat  with  the  same  feel- 
ing, and  words  were  unnecessary. 


THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE  245 

When  at  length  they  drove  into  the  yard,  Knut 
saw  that  the  flag  was  still  up;  the  servants  had 
forgotten  to  take  it  down.  But  Norby  did  not 
get  angry  now;  he  could  take  it  down  himself. 

When  he  called  for  some  one  to  take  the  horse, 
no  one  came. 

"Have  they  all  gone  to  bed?"  said  Marit,  a 
little  out  of  humour. 

"Oh  well,"  said  Norby,  "it's  not  much  to  be 
wondered  at ;  they  have  to  be  up  in  the  morning." 
And  he  began  to  unharness  the  horse  himself. 

When  at  length  he  came  up  to  the  bedroom, 
Marit  already  lay  yawning  in  bed,  but  Norby 
began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  floor,  with  his 
thumbs  hooked  into  the  armholes  of  his  waistcoat. 
He  was  in  far  too  good  humour  to  go  to  bed  at 
once. 

"Ah  well,"  said  Marit  quietly,  "this  can  be 
an  example  to  others,  and  encourage  people  to  be 
patient  and  enduring." 

"Yes,"  said  Norby,  stopping  at  the  window, 
where  he  could  see  the  fjord  in  the  moonlight, 
"the  main  thing  is  to  act  honourably  and  up- 
rightly." In  a  little  while  he  said:  "I  don't 
know  how  it  is,  but  I  seem  to  have  been  away  from 
Norby  for  a  long  time,  and  only  to  have  properly 
come  home  again  now." 

"Dear  me,  yes!"  yawned  Marit.  "But  it  has 
been  a  hard  time." 

Norby  still  looked  out  over  the  lake  in  the 


246  THE  POWER  OF  A  LIE 

moonlight.  "There  must  have  been  some  purpose 
in  it  all,"  he  said.  "I  may  often  have  acted  with 
too  great  severity,  but  now  I  think  it  will  be 
better  for  every  one  in  the  district.  I  shall  do  my 
part,  at  any  rate." 

His  wife  did  not  answer:  presumably  she  was 
too  tired. 

When  at  last  Norby  got  into  bed,  he  folded  his 
hands  and  said  a  couple  of  verses  of  a  hymn.  He 
felt  so  near  to  God;  and  the  respect  and  sym- 
pathy of  the  whole  district  now  shone  into  his 
conscience,  but  he  would  thank  God  for  it  all. 

"But  there  is  one  thing  I  can't  understand,"  he 
thought  after  a  while,  "and  that  is  how  people 
can  stand  like  Wangen  with  a  calm  face  and  lie 
in  court.  God  help  those  who  have  no  more 
conscience  than  to  do  it !" 


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